


Light in the Dark

by strugglingsemicolon



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: F/M, Protective Diego Hargreeves, another of the forty three, eventually an eighth Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 34,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strugglingsemicolon/pseuds/strugglingsemicolon
Summary: They said forty two children were born to women who hadn't been pregnant. Forty two children sharing the birthday 01 October 1989, arriving into the world at noon.There were forty three.Diego had never wondered about the others. But one came looking for the Umbrella Academy. Another one who, like those that Sir Reginald had adopted, displayed powers beyond the usual human capabilities.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 186





	1. Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally writing this on Tumblr. Recently, as I try to get back into writing after an incredibly busy few months, I returned to my document. I have been revising the older chapters and beginning to draft new ones. So this will repeat, with some editting, what I had posted on Tumblr - and then continue the story. 
> 
> Evie is my own character and creation. Her backstory can be upsetting. Some chapters can be depressing. Some are not suitable for work. I will endeavour to include a note like this at the beginning of those chapters. 
> 
> It begins with Diego and Evie. Eudora and others will be featured in later chapters.

Since she left home six and a half years earlier Eve’s lifestyle had been itinerant. Without any of the usual identification that a person would use to gain employment and rent a property, without any ties, she had spent years living out of train stations and bus shelters, hostels when she could, taking it in turns with her few outfits at the laundrette and pacing the streets, grateful that she could never freeze in these cold temperatures. 

They had deemed her demon spawn from the moment of her arrival, her mother having suddenly gone into labour at noon despite there having been no sign of pregnancy just minutes before. When the delivery was over, Judith had for a moment interpreted this as a sign of the second coming - but their leader was the only one permitted to read signs from God and he’d had no message to expect a Virgin birth. 

When, as a child, she began starting fires - well that just cemented it as a clear she was a sign that the Devil was testing the Brethren. 

It took more than two decades for Eve to physically escape them. Sometimes she felt sure she emotionally left years earlier; sometimes it was like her mind hadn’t gotten away yet. She had spent nearly twenty-one years in that isolated existence, of a world limited to fifty-seven people living in a remote region of Idaho where contact with those not part of their community was kept to the bare minimum required for survival. 

She still thought of this – the real world – as the ‘outside’ world. 

Eve had been ill-equipped, barely educated, and alone in a world nothing like the one she had known before then. Libraries had become her salvation. They didn’t demand money or answers, they didn’t care to convert or question. In these spaces, surrounded by shelves of knowledge, all they asked of her was that she be quiet. Eve could manage that. 

She would hide in corners, devouring books as though they could fill the empty pit of her stomach, desperate for information that she had been denied in the same way a drowning person gasps for air. 

And it was in a library she discovered she was not alone. That if she was the Omen of the Apocalypse that she had been told all her life…there were forty-two others. She was number forty-three. 

Vanya’s book was the first novel she stole. Before then her small thefts had been for survival. Food. Water. Shelter. But it felt as though the tome was as vital to her needs, that the story showed somewhere out there were people who understood. That maybe she could find answers. Even friendship. 

The pages grew dog-eared and soft at the corners as she began to travel East, to the city where it all took place. Eve didn’t expect to join the Umbrella Academy but she had no better plans, no other ideas, and the possibility of meeting another person whose life was scarred by the events of their arrival was the slimmest silver spark of hope – the only hope she possessed. On arrival though she found her situation had not changed. Like everywhere else she went she was alone on the edges of society without the knowledge to navigate a lifestyle that didn’t involve sleeping on street corners. For almost twelve months she watched the seasons changed from a ringside seat. 

When she finally met one of the Hargreeves it was an accident. 

The temperature in the air had dropped again. She wondered if the snow, only just begun cleared, would fall again. The nights were still below freezing, with dew turned to ice and frost to greet people in the morning. For most of those who called pavements their bed this was a dangerous, hard time of year. Where every waking moment became about finding a way to get inside, somewhere with heating, to chase the chill from their extremities before they froze like the statues in the park. 

From this, Eve was safe. Her body temperature never dropped below 40C, and her hands and fingers – where the power was easiest to focus and access – were always a few degrees hotter. Yet like so many of the homeless that formed the city’s invisible underclass if the night found her with no better bed than cement, she chose to walk to the dawn. In her case it was not to prevent her blood turning to ice in her veins, but because given the choice of curling up and being alone and vulnerable in the darkness, she ‘chose’ – if with such limited options the word was even inappropriate – to be on the move. Walking offered a sense of safety, of being able to flee any danger that might arise. 

What we feel and what is real are two different things. 

She must have looked like an easy target - young women in her twenties, delicately built, and alone. Interesting enough that the three men crossed the empty street to crowd her toward an alley. 

“Looking for some company baby?” 

“No - thank you” she murmured, trying to sidestep but one grabbed her arm in a grip tight enough to prevent her from moving. Eve had to lift her chin to look up at their faces, wearing jeering smiles, as panic began to rise…and with it, her body temperature. 

“Pretty thing like you, all alone? We’ll take care of you” one said, his tone mocking as he reached for her waist - and she grabbed at his arm to hold him at bay. Her fingers seem to glow an unearthly red, obvious in the gloom of the night, and as they gripped the denim the air filled with the smell of smoldering fabric and tendrils of smoke. 

“What the-” 

It was hard to say whether they were reacting to that the sight or the knife that appeared, a flash of silver curving through the air in an impossible trajectory past their heads and embedding itself into the wall. 

Using the moment of confusion, she pushed at her assailant’s chest with her other hand, leaving a charred print of her palm and fingers on the canvas. The moment she was free Eve ducked into the alley, sliding into the shadows, eyes wide as she watched another blade hiss through the night gloom and pin one of the men against the bricks – his denim jacket now not just scarred by flames but a fresh tear stained with blood and sinking into mortar by his shoulder with a harsh scraping noise less satisfying to the ears then his yelp of pain. 

The other two took their chances and fled, as the owner of the projectiles appeared and grabbed the one remaining, yanking the knife free with one hand and the youth’s uninjured arm with the other - and noting the blackened palmprint with a frown. Grabbing the jacket’s collar, he yanked, hard, stripping it from the young man and shoving him hard so he fell to the ground. 

“Out of here. Now” he spat before turning toward her, not even watching as the stranger half ran half stumbled away. Shaking the jacket toward the shape still hiding in the shadow he asked, “You want to share how you managed that?” 

For a moment she was silent, thoughts whirling in her mind before coming to settle in a pattern of realisation. 

Knives. Thrown knives that travelled in an arc that should be impossible. And a swatch of black across the face, a mask designed to half-hide the face as though that was enough to maintain a secret identity. 

The Umbrella Academy. 

Swallowing back nerves, she stepped forward - and watched as his gaze readjusted several inches lower than he’d expected for her height – before proffering her hands. Turning them palm upwards, the gesture intended to convey peace, she focused - and her palms began to glow, red light and heat radiating out like lit coals, the pose now conveying far more threat than traditional. 

His eyes widened, watching as in the chilly, damp evening steam appeared to rise from her slender, trembling fingers, before he looked back to her face. He opened his mouth as though to speak but appeared lost for words. Eve shrugged; the movement almost apologetic, an emotion that she managed to convey all the time having spent a lifetime being sorry for her existence. 

“I was born on the first of October 1989, at noon” she whispered after a moment. 

As introductions went it wouldn’t meet any etiquette standard – but he understood and made the same connection. 

“You’re one of the others”. The words seemed stunned, even though Eve couldn’t help but assume he must have wondered. It was no secret there had been more than the six Reginald Hargreeves showed off and the one he kept hidden. How could they not wonder at those he hadn’t found? 

“My name is Eve” she offered. Named for the first sinner, named because from the moment she appeared in the world the people who raised her assumed she was a sign of Hell on Earth, a demon child who needed the evil beaten out of them. 

“Diego” he offered in return though Eve had already put together enough pieces to figure that. Her mind ticked over with facts her research had gleaned, both from the magazines – most publications purchased whilst the academy were active called him Number Two, or the Kraken, it was only with the release of ‘Extra-Ordinary’ that his first name was revealed – and the novel, that offered some of his personality beyond the press approved by Reginald Hargreeves. Whilst she was silent, her mind full, he leaned closer to look at her hands. Without her focus the heat had continued to intensify, her fingers now white hot and the hint of flames beginning to lick along her skin until she blinked and curled both hands into fists, extinguishing the fires and pulling her fingers close to her stomach protectively. It was harder to sustain fire as opposed to just her usual warmth, it pulled energy from the rest of her body - trying to maintain it too long left her seeing stars. 

“Shit” he murmured, more to himself than her. “So…the rest...huh”. 

“I don’t know about ‘the rest’. There’s me. I found out about you – and your siblings”. The Umbrella Academy were easy to find, marketed more like toys than children, but the others born that day? Maybe they could be found, but it would require skills and connections Eve didn’t have. All she had found so far were red herrings, rumours – and death certificates. 

“Thank you. For them” she nodded toward the jacket he still held, the only remaining sign of the strange men. 

“Saving lives, baby - that’s what I do”. The word didn’t sound the same from him, the flippant way he said it didn’t make her spine shudder as the stranger’s sleezy compliment had. “You should get home though - streets aren’t safe, even with that trick”. 

“The streets are my home”. That seemed to get his attention as much as her talent had, and he frowned. As he scrutinised her, she shrugged again, the rise and fall of her hunched shoulders and the tiny half smile that accompanied it, nothing more than a twitch at the right corner of her mouth, an engrained habit from years of having no right answers and feeling a need to apologise for her mere existence. Eve was unsure what she could offer other than her life story and frankly that was nothing worth telling. 

“Lemme get this straight. You’re here – looking for the Umbrella Academy – and living on the streets. What, you figured you’d join the gang? Get yourself adopted by a billionaire too?” he asked, his tone vicious and bitter. Taking half a step back, folding in further on herself, Eve shook her head. When she spoke again her tone was hurt at how mercenary his description made her sound. 

“I had thought - maybe if I came here, I could - well, yes, find some of you. But not for that. So that I could find somebody who understood. I didn’t have anywhere else to go - or anyone, or anything”. It was a sad, pathetic and highly abbreviated account of her life and Diego’s features softened slightly even as he audibly sighed with frustration. 

“I’ve read your sister’s book” she added, almost regretting that disclosure at the way his expression twisted into a sneer as Diego turned his head away. “I know – I know it wasn’t some fairy-tale, that isn’t why I’m here. But if you had nothing…if you had nobody…well, do you know a better way to pick a city?” She knew it had been a hugely flawed plan – hell, it barely deserved the title ‘plan’, that little word still managed to imply far more organisation than her actual idea. 

“Could we just – get coffee? Please?” Eve asked, hating how pathetic she sounded but having nothing better. She had come to the city and lived here a year without seeing any of them, she had no other leads, no other ideas, nothing in her life she was striving toward – and that meant she couldn’t help but sound desperate. 

“Coffee. Fine. C’mon”. 

He shrugged on the stolen coat to cover the knife harness, pulling the mask from his face and slipping it within his pocket as he led the way further down the street into a diner where he threw himself into a booth. There was nothing in his body language that indicated an openness to this conversation but perching opposite and leaning forward she forced it anyway. 

“Didn’t you ever wonder about the others?” she asked, curious. It’s a weird feeling to have been searching for people who’d never even thought about you. 

“Sure. Couple of times – but none of them ever came forward” Diego pointed out. “We’re the easiest to find, right? You’re the first time I know of one of them finding us. I figured maybe the rest were normal”. There was enough disdain in those words that she could infer the added words - like my sister - like Vanya. 

“I didn’t even know there were others till a few years ago. I hadn’t heard…I thought I was the only one” Eve said, hesitating now. Theories were safe ground; personal history was shaky. 

“But then you found out. And came looking – for what?” 

“I don’t know” Eve admitted. “I don’t!” she repeated, adamant despite the scoff he wore. “I just…I thought I was the only person born like this. Who could do…odd things. Inhuman things. And it was – awful”. Awful hardly covered it, but it wasn’t a lie and her voice quavered at the confession. “Then I found out about you guys, using this way you were different to do good things, famous and everything and then – well. It didn’t last but I thought…you were a team. You were a family. I didn’t have that, and I thought…that maybe I’d find somebody who understood. And I didn’t have anything better as an option so…” 

“So?” 

She didn’t know. Spoken out loud it sounded weak and useless even to her. Diego rolled his eyes, torn between frustration and compassion. What she expected from him, he didn’t know – but then how could he, when she didn’t know. 

“It was a shit upbringing. And we’re not exactly playing happy families these days. You didn’t miss anything” he assured her, moving to stand. “I don’t know what you thought would happen by coming here, but there’s nothing for you”. 

He had intended just to make an honest point – but the way her chin trembled, and she dropped her head forward, an audible hitch in her breathing, made it clear that his words had stung and that held him in place. 

Diego didn’t claim to be a superhero, or a nice guy – just somebody who got things done. Somebody had to handle the jobs nobody else wanted, to sort the problems the law couldn’t – and yet despite the fact he told himself that, had spent years hardening himself, he still stood in place looking down at Eve as she attempted to hide her disappointment. Finally, he sighed. 

“I know a shelter. Homeless shelter. I’ll show you the way. Maybe they can help you figure stuff”.


	2. Slow Beginnings

Had he been asked Diego would have made it clear he was out working the city at night to get rid of scum and save lives - in that order. He wasn’t here to take care of people, he wasn’t looking for responsibility or even recognition, he was just cleaning up the streets. 

If he had a complex that meant he needed to play the hero and find somebody to save, which he did not, Diego was sure logic suggested he start with his family. They might not think they needed any assistance though. Luther was a big boy who could take care of himself, Allison had spread enough of her rumours to craft a perfect life, Klaus frankly didn’t seem to want any help or intervention and Vanya had cut ties with her nasty little novel. He should be glad for all this, not having the burden of his siblings and their bickering, and he certainly was sure he hadn't been looking for a replacement sibling to take on as a responsibility. 

So he wasn't sure why he found himself returning to the shelter the next night to check on Eve. Sat in the car, staring at the building, one hand flipping a knife back and forth by the handle - the motion so easy to him that it was clear how often he did this, how regular a habit it was - as he considered. 

It was one thing to have met her randomly and helped her out. Another to go inside and ask for her – that became an active choice to reach out, not a unique event that could be written off. Even knowing this he got out the car and walked up to the door, sheathing the dagger as he rapped at the wood with gloved knuckles. 

Eve was surprised to be asked for, one of the volunteers sticking their head around her door but when she found out her visitor she wasn't sorry, and offered a smile - far more of a greeting than Diego managed, as he merely inclined his head slightly. 

"Figured I'd come check on you. Make sure you're ok" he said, affecting a lack of concern. 

Eve wasn't great at people skills and subtle cues, but even she could guess that if he was as tough and uncaring as his exterior had tried to project yesterday, he wouldn't have returned. He hadn't been looking for others born from the Event, he wasn't excited to meet her - but he didn't, after one meeting, hate her. That felt like some step forward in this city, something that could even be built into a friendship. She could hardly answer his question in a negative though. 

"Sure. They've been kind, it's nice here" Eve told him. That wasn't a lie - the place was clean and free from attempts to preach higher powers to lost souls seeking refuge under its roof. There had been worse places she had stayed. Good manners and convention meant she could hardly say otherwise in earshot of those who worked here though. In truth, not even just manners. Eve had been thrown out of places before for the crime of offering even constructive criticism. 

Realising the reason for her reticence, Diego nodded toward the door. "Coffee?" 

"Sure," she said, breaking into a sunny smile that revealed her overbite. Turning he grabbed the door, partly because his Mom didn't raise him to be rude and partly because he did not need his image being ruined by it becoming apparent that he, like just about anyone else, would look pleased at such a positive reaction. 

Leading the way to his car (Eudora told him it could hardly be counted as a car, more rust on wheels, but the old girl worked just fine in his opinion) he threw open the passenger door before heading around and jumping in the driver's side. 

The silence after the doors closed was awkward, and Eve slid her hands under her thighs to stop herself fidgeting, sat on her fingers so they couldn't betray her. This city wasn't her home, but wandering its streets meant she had a fairly good idea of its layout, and she watched out the window for the journey so she could be certain of her way back...just in case. 

"Here. They make good pancakes" Diego offered when he pulled over and Eve glanced at him curiously before climbing out. He hadn't seemed like a pancakes kind of person to her. 

"So, the place is ok?" he double checked as they slid into a booth opposite each other. 

"Yeah, y'know, it's fine. As these places go" Eve added, shrugging. Shelters are a godsend in many ways, but at the same time experience taught her they were often poor, struggling to make ends meet, and plagued by people who were less than grateful. Anyone expecting five-star luxury would be horrified by the bunk beds, sparse furnishing, peeling lino and worn cushions but Eve knew it could be worse. 

"As they go - you've spent a lot of time in homeless shelters?" he asked with a frown. 

"I've stayed a few. So long as they don't shove their faith down my throat I count it as a win". 

He chuckled at her words. The waitress halted the conversation for a moment to take their order, but as she walked away he glanced at Eve - once again sat on her hands and now staring at the Formica table top - and asked, "Not a fan of religion?" 

"...No". Not anymore. 

"Just no?" 

Eve sighed. Religion was always a touchy subject that could get people heated, but for her, it was more than that. It was complicated. 

"That's a big question to ask somebody you just met," she said, shifting the topic and lifting her chin enough to meet his gaze. Diego didn't deny it, but he wasn't abashed by her feeble attempt at confronting him. 

"You said you read my sister's book. That means you know plenty about me. I'd say questions like that just level the playing field". 

"I don't know you though", Eve protested. "The book...I know what Vanya thinks of your upbringing and who you used to be. You left home at like, what, seventeen? So even if that was accurate, it's ten years old. People change. And as well...you can grow up in the same place, the same family, as somebody else and it's still completely different for you. The book - even the parts about you - are her opinion - right?" 

Something in that statement worked. Eve wasn't sure exactly what she got right, but she could see the way he sat back in the booth, his shoulders relaxing a little and his face softening that it got through somehow. That for once she wasn't just a rambling idiot but had made sense and a connection. 

"Right" he admitted, almost unwillingly despite the way his stance had shifted. "You still know more about me than I know about you though. If you came here to find people who 'get it'" - hands still resting on the tabletop but fingers lifting to offer loose, lazy quotation marks - "You're gonna have to tell me something kid". 

"We're the same age". Literally the exact same age, she could have added but he just chuckled. Shaking her head slightly, enough that her hair fell forward from behind her ears and screened her face, she sighed and asked: "What do you want to know?" 

"Where you from?" 

"Idaho" Eve admitted. "A backwoods little town you'll never have heard of". Not a lie after all. 

"And you'd never heard of us?" Diego seemed slightly incredulous at that, that the fame of the Umbrella Academy hadn't spread so far as to reach on her childhood. 

"My family didn't allow television. Or magazines. Or radio for anyone but the...Father" she winced even as the sentence left her, the syntax all wrong and far too revealing. In her attempt to hide it - impossible, his eyes were already on her and brightened with interest - she attempted a joke. "Sorry to break it to you that your fame hasn't made you a household name all over". Not a good joke and neither of them laughed. 

Pulling out a small knife from his sleeve, intrigued and yet even as brash as he was knowing the conversation had touched something she didn't want to talk about, he tapped it against the tabletop to focus himself. Fiddling, rolling the handle along with his palm, he skirted the subject very slightly. "But they knew about the other births right - that was like. International". 

"Where I grew up is very isolated", the words spoken with so carefully they might have been glass. "They don't approve of contact with the Outside World so...no. They didn't know that I wasn't the only weird birth. There's lots they don't know" 

Diego glanced up, curious. Even in her speech he could hear the sense of capital letters, that she was labelling everything away from her hometown as something other and different. It only had him wondering more, but he held out on an interrogation. 

"Sounds like a fucking cult". 

Not a question after all. He wished Patch was here. She was an expert at conversations and drawing out truths and stories. When Diego needed to find something out it was generally from somebody he had no qualms about threatening. That wasn’t going to work with Eve though – not just because he had not justifiable excuse to go on the offensive, but also because he suspected she’d just shut down in the face of confrontation. 

"Pretty much". That made it sound as dull as she could imagine, and yet it seemed he’d lost none of the interest. Looking away from her, watching the diner overhead lights in the dull steel of his knife as he toyed with it, Diego decided to give her...well, something. 

"I can get that. Our Dad named us numbers after all". Eve's tone as she referred to her past was low, quiet, almost monotone and carefully calm. Diego, on the other hand, hid none of the scorn and underlying anger as he mentioned the man who adopted him. 

Watching him, her expression soft and sad with understanding, meant that as he glanced over their eyes met - and there was something there. A connection of sorts, recognition enough, and Eve smiled without intending to. It was barely a beginning but a beginning it was. It was interrupted however by the arrival of black coffee and a plate piled high with bacon and pancakes. 

“You’re gonna eat all that?” Eve asked, the words stunned and slipping out before she thought them through. If she had offended him, he hid it well, tucking the knife away and reaching for a fork. 

“It’s hard work doing what I do” he told her. 

“What is it you do?” Eve asked, genuinely curious as she slid her fingers around the coffee mug – an action most people did to keep warm, although it made no difference for her. 

“You saw last night. I beat up shitbags. And box” he added almost as an afterthought before he began shovelling food into his mouth. She considered this answer for a moment, staring into her cup as though explanations floated on the dark surface. 

“Why?” she asked, when her coffee proffered no understanding. 

“Why not? World’s going to hell. City’s full of bastards. I do some good. Actual good, not getting wrapped up in red tape and bullshit”. 

Again, she studied her coffee before speaking. “It must be nice. To make a difference”. The look he threw her way revealed that for a moment he thought she was joking, mocking him like just about everyone did about his vigilante activities. There was nothing teasing in her expression, no biting edge to her tone, just honesty – and that warmed him a little, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it is”.


	3. Hatching Friendship

Maybe it was because she was like him and his siblings, the only other one like them he’d met born with these strange abilities. Maybe it was because she was such an easy target for the thugs he despised – his age but so wide-eyed and fragile looking, exactly the sort of person who would be targeted if somebody didn’t keep an eye on her. Or maybe it was because she seemed to like him, admire him, encourage him even - no judgement or standoffish airs. 

Whatever it was he kept coming back to her, usually first thing in the evening. She’d hop in the car and they’d grab a coffee, or just sit there with the radio on, one ear listening for trouble when she’d disappear, and he’d get stuck in. 

That evening he hadn’t gone to the shelter first – he’d heard something on his way and diverted. It was the early hours of the morning, as he headed back to the gym he called home, when he passed the shelter – and saw her, perched on a step outside despite the hour. Face creasing in a frown he pulled over sharply; at this hour even the city’s streets were quiet which was a blessing as it didn’t occur to him to check for other traffic.   
“Kid, what’re you doing out here?” He said, speaking the moment he opened the door even before he’d finished getting out the car. “Wasn’t the point in taking you to a shelter to get you off the street?” he reminded her. 

Eve had been hunched over, folded in on herself, lost in her thoughts – but her head had snapped up as the car pulled up. Had it not been Diego she’d have moved, as it was, she merely offered a shrug and a faint smile. 

“The shelter was full and somebody else arrived. They needed the place more than me” she explained as she scrambled awkwardly to her feet. “They’d freeze out here” she pointed out. It was a cold evening, dry and crisp, and every breath she exhaled had mist rising before her. 

“Don’t you need to keep warm? Keep that fire stoked?” He asked, giving in to some curiosity, and Eve smiled as she shook her head. 

“I’m never cold” she assured him. It wasn’t that she needed the heat to survive, the heat was inside her and nothing stopped it – the cold didn’t bother her like it did other people, because she was toasty regardless, and the heat never upset her either. Eve couldn’t be too warm, as far as she could tell. Diego nodded, accepting that at least, but he still looked annoyed. 

“You might not be cold but it's not safe,” he told her, scolding and she blinked, abashed. 

“I’m fine” she assured him. “I’ve slept rough a lot – honestly. I’m awake, and if somebody came, I’d go bang the door of the shelter – they’re just full tonight. Even the chairs are occupied. It’s at capacity for fire regulations” she added, the last part of her sentence having the same tone as a parrot repeating without understanding. Eve made no claim to fully understand the explanation, which had been given when turning somebody away, what she had understood was somebody had to go outside – and she had volunteered. 

“It’s not fine – I spent all evening seeing how dangerous this place is, and you think you can just stay out here all night?” He was annoyed enough to raise his voice and Eve stepped back, shrinking into herself automatically. You might think a lifetime of being shouted out would render her immune, but Eve had no ability to withstand confrontation, and her automatic response was to try to hide, to make herself invisible. 

Diego was frustrated, but from concern rather than true anger – which gave him enough control to pull back and he sighed, flexing his fingers before nodding toward the car. 

“Get in. C’mon. You might not be cold, but you can’t just sit out here” he said, his tone brusque despite the kind intent behind it. The mixed signals had Eve hesitating; eyes wide as she bit her lip nervously. It was a strange combination - she’d grown up with the opposite, honeyed tones and stinging words. 

“Kid. C’mon” he repeated, softening his tone further. There was something shaming about seeing her react to him like this. Normally, Diego liked to be seen as intimidating. Appearances help rattle an opponent and win the fight. It didn’t bother him, he was proud even of his ability to threaten others, but with Eve…well, it was not impressive, it just felt wrong. Like scaring Bambi – it was too easy, too cruel and nothing to be proud of. 

The nickname helped a little, that ridiculous moniker he’d given her, and Eve stepped forward and nodded slightly. Part of her wanted to point out that she was fine, that she didn’t need him to take care of her. That she had managed for years and he didn’t have to add to his burdens by caring for her. Right now, though, arguing was beyond her. Her reasons for wanting to be left here were selfless, but a greedy part of her wanted to get into the car and spend time with him – and she didn’t have the spine to stand and argue. Eve was ashamed of herself as she slid into the car, putting another weight on Diego’s shoulders, having him worry when she wasn’t worth it…and knowing that as well as her inability to stand her ground, a part of it was her selfish wish to steal moments of time with him. 

“Where are we going?” she asked when both doors were closed, her voice subdued. 

“Since you’re too stupid and selfless for your own good, and I’m done working for the night – we’re going to my place. It’s not fancy but it’s safe” he assured her as the car pulled forward. 

****************************************** 

Most people would have found the room warm, the boiler in the corner meaning even this sparse, cement basement had heat - but Eve was unaffected, though she looked around the place with a keen interest that had Diego’s eyes rolling. 

“Yeah, like I said, it’s not fancy” he repeated, gruff even though it was clear she wasn’t judging him. It was his home, it served its purpose - interior design wasn’t high up his list of priorities after all. 

“Would you even want fancy?” Eve questioned. It had been a quiet journey, not an awkward silence or one filled with anger, just quiet, and that space had given her time to collect her thoughts and find her tongue again. 

Diego snorted at her words. She had a point. 

“Nah. I grew up in fancy. Who needs all that shit” he said, thinking of the rooms that belonged to Reginald Hargreeves. Their father had kept their bedrooms sparse and simple – well, most of them anyway, his favourites being an exception – but other areas of the house had betrayed his wealth and fondness for material possessions. Heavily framed paintings, suits of armour and stuffed creatures, damask upholstered furniture, gilt ornaments, and dark wood – very fancy. But not his style. 

Eve’s acceptance of the space, and Diego’s choice of how to live, only lasted so long. As he approached a counter and picked up an egg she turned to ask another question, her mouth opening – but her expression grew horrified as he cracked the shell and poured the raw contents directly into his mouth. 

“Did you just – eat that egg – raw?!” 

She had never thought of herself as fussy. Growing up it was very much a ‘don’t eat that, don’t eat’ environment, no catering to preferences, and when you sleep rough…well, you almost reduce yourself to eating what you can get. The past few years she’d grown used to street vendor hot dogs and junk that wouldn’t perish in a nuclear apocalypse, so you could certainly trust it shoved in a backpack. She had thought her only standard was not eating other people’s leftovers from the trash (and even that marked her as particular in the eyes of some homeless people) but she had never in all her days seen anybody eat raw egg and Eve learned that her standards were set slightly higher than she expected at that moment. 

“It’s protein,” Diego told her, defensive at the look on her face. 

“It was raw!” Eve repeated, finding it impossible to find any other response. 

“It’s a bodybuilding thing – it takes work to look this good, sweetheart,” he told her, slapping one hand against his stomach. Eve’s gaze dropped to his hand, hearing the solid sound made by his palm against the muscles there. A weird feeling twisted inside her, finding herself wondering exactly what ‘this good’ would look like. Her cheeks coloured at her own thoughts and she glanced away, silent for a moment – and entirely missing the smirk that twitched Diego’s mouth from the corner as he guessed a pretty accurate idea of what she had suddenly found herself imagining. 

“OK, so…fine…protein…” she said after a moment, trying to return to the conversation and to forget the image of him shirtless she had been contemplating. “But surely you can still cook it”. 

“Look around – do you see cooking facilities?” 

There he had a point. This was not a room that had been built with creating fine cuisine in mind. But she did have an idea. 

“I think I might be able to help,” she told him, crossing to the sink and filling a mug that sat there with water. She dropped another egg into the water and slid her hands around the mug, hugging it with her fingers as though seeking warmth – it was quite the opposite actually. Focusing, a crease between her brows and her teeth nipping at her lower lip, she stared down at her hands as they began to glow – and the water began to bubble, slowly at first then faster. 

Diego figured it out pretty quick and couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“That’s what you use it for?” 

“You know, I’d never thought to before” she admitted after a moment. 

For a beat of silence, he watched the cup, the boiling water – but his gaze rose to her face and that held more interest. She was so focused and intent as she tried this. Most of the time she just looked young and lost, huge blue eyes in a heart-shaped face making her look younger than she was. He called her ‘kid’ on instinct, there was something about her that meant he felt older despite the fact they were the exact same age. But concentrating this hard, she had a fire in her expression that matched her palms. For a moment he let himself watch her, study her…and then pulled his mind and eyes away, turning abruptly and speaking with his back to her as he began to unbuckle the knife harness. 

“How long you’ve known you could do it?” 

“I…I think I was about…nine? When I realised I had some control over it”. 

“That late?” 

“I could do it earlier,” Eve told him, taking her turn to sound defensive. She had read Vanya’s book and knew they’d been far younger when their abilities first manifested. “But before then I didn’t realise it was me”. 

“You thought fires just started?” Diego scoffed, turning back to her as he hung the harness over a chair back. 

Eve swallowed, considering her answers. They weren’t strangers now. She thought they were friends – she’d had too few to be certain. And friends shared things. 

“No…I…they said…” She lost her focus, her eyes glazing over slightly as she turned inward looking for the right words to describe. In doing so she began to remember. Being four years old and crying. Kneeling on the ground outside, naked, the rest of the Church circled around her praying. And the Prophet, their leader, standing tall with a whip in one hand and vial of holy water in the other as he tried to expel the demons from her. Back then she had believed them when they told her devils were using her, demons worked through her, that there was a core of evil in her heart – she had thought it was those monsters that created the fire. 

It was a bad memory to visit. Her palms flared hot, too hot, and the china cracked beneath her fingers. The sound yanked her back and she yelped and, some instinct taking over, all but threw the cup into the sink – where it shattered, as did the half-cooked egg. 

“I’m sorry”. The words left her lips quickly, too quickly, revealing how many times she had apologised for mistakes and clumsy moments in her life. 

“You okay?” He learned toward, tilting his head so he could see her face better as one hand moved to her shoulder. Diego figured something had happened in her head, had seen that sort of look before – the moment before the crack, she’d reminded him of Klaus. Her expression had that same haunted, heartbroken air that made him feel as though part of him as cracked as surely as the mug. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry” she repeated, her voice half a whisper and he very gently shook her, no violence or malice in the movement, just trying to get her attention. 

“Hey, kid – the mug doesn’t matter. You alright?” 

Eve blinked, turned her gaze to him slowly. He might have found her expression familiar, but Diego’s was all new to her. The level of concern, the softness and compassion, the want to help and the need to know she was okay – Eve had never seen anything like that before. Meeting his gaze she found it hard to swallow, hard to breathe for a moment. 

“I’m alright” she managed to reassure him. Diego squeezed her shoulder gently before letting go, offering a weak joke to mask the concern he’d just displayed and break the tension he’d felt as well as she met his gaze. 

“Good thing I don’t mind my eggs raw”.


	4. Background Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Warning: This chapter contains references to past abuse suffered by both characters.

“How long have you lived here?” 

It was Eve’s third visit to the basement boiler room Diego called a home, and she was helping – or attempting to help – him sharpen and clean the knives he wore. The conversation starter was primarily a way to distract herself from the fact that she was cleaning the steel of crusted blood that had once belonged to people and somehow, even knowing that they were criminals who had been out to cause pain, that felt weird. The only blood she had experience with was her own, which didn’t bother her in the slightest, and so she had assumed she was sufficiently strong stomached to cope – but whilst she certainly hadn’t fainted, Eve wasn’t exactly loving this. It was less the substance and more it's source that had her mind churning, and Eve figured thatt talking would occupy her brain. 

“Three years now” he answered, inspecting the knives she had finished, his movements almost reverent as he studied the steel and put them away. Contrary to what some people might have thought he was not so attached to the harness or his blades that he slept with them. At least, not with all of them – keeping a weapon close to your bed in case is just good sense. They were, however, more than just tools to him. 

“Before that?” 

“Before that I rented a place. You gonna ask before that too?” 

“Sure” Eve said with a shrug. She knew Diego left home at seventeen, ten years ago. And she knew what he was doing now. The decade in between was a mystery. With a roll of his eyes he picked up the whetstone, the edge in his voice when he spoke again as sharp as the one on the knife. 

“I left home to join the police academy – I’d applied for their program before I moved out. Enrolled with them, had to do a year of study first to get my GED. Realised it was bullshit so dropped out when I was twenty. Found a job in security and rented a place for a few years but it still wasn’t doing enough to help. I was already training here sometimes. Got talking to Al. I wanted to quit the job but needed the pay. We figured out a deal, I stay here and do maintenance and cleaning around the place. Gave me my nights back so I could help deal with shitheads. That’s the whole story – happy?”. 

Leaning forward she held out the knife in her hand, handle first toward him, waiting till he lifted his gaze first to it and then to her face. She sat in the chair cross-legged, whilst he was on the floor, and it was an odd feeling to be looking down at him for once. 

“I figured it might give me some tips” Eve told him gently, watching the tension around his shoulders ease at the explanation. Handing over the knife so he could critique her work she sat back up straight and reached for another, but her gaze stayed on him for a moment longer, using the time that he was focused elsewhere to study him before he looked up to speak and she acted busy. 

“You want to rent somewhere” he said, his tone calm again. 

“You think I live in homeless shelters as a fun lifestyle choice?” she asked. The more comfortable she grew with Diego, the more she was learning the banter, the way he used humour and the way she could match it – and he chuckled, appreciating this developing wit. When he first met Eve, she seemed so shy, and he had figured out that she was ignorant in some ways of the world and prone to feeling socially awkward but seeing there was more to her then that was a development he enjoyed. He no longer checked in on her as a begrudging act as pity, as it had been when he returned initially. 

“Hey, say it like it’s crazy, but you’re the first volunteering to leave that place and be back outside” he pointed out, balancing the dagger she had given him on the palm of his hand before nodding, satisfied with the edge Eve had given it. “So, c’mon – I shared. Your turn”. Reaching up he took the dagger she was working on to steal her distraction tool. With a sigh, she looked down at her now empty hands before beginning – the bitter tone of her voice betraying the influence he was having on her already in their friendship. 

“I just couldn’t take it anymore. Because of being born out of nowhere – my whole life they treated me…like they expected I would turn into Satan if anyone turned their back for a moment. I thought…I thought I could try and show them it wasn’t true. For years. I tried – so hard”. Her voice cracked on those words. She had truly tried. Eve had spent as much time as anyone praying, had done all she could to be a model child within the guidelines laid down within – and the Sanctified Brethren of the Special Emissary, as they were named by their ‘leader,’ kept strict rules – and it had never ever been enough. 

“They call everyone other than themselves unclean. That’s why they avoid the Outside World so much. But sometimes family came to try and get members to leave. Sarah’s grandparents – she agreed to go with them. I begged them to take me out of that place too and they agreed. Found me a place in a shelter for victims of domestic violence”. Eve was quiet, staring down at the bitten mess that was her fingernails, remembering that first place. The strangeness of being treated with kindness and patience. 

“That was…seven years ago. I’ve been moving along the States. Boise. Salt Lake City. Boulder. So on and so on. I found out about the Umbrella Academy when I was in Omaha and then I deliberately started heading East. You’ve already made it clear that was a terrible plan – no need to rehash it”. 

“Why didn’t you just stay out there? If they found you help and stuff”. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know that would make more sense. But I just - I didn’t want people getting close. I thought…I worry about this stuff. I’ve got better control now, but I used to start fires accidentally. Living on the streets felt safer – if I stayed, I might have hurt them when they were just trying to help”. 

There was silence for a moment, Eve staring at her bitten fingernails, Diego looking at the knife he turned around and around in his fingers idly. 

“I don’t buy it” he said abruptly, gripping the knife and stopping its circling as he looked up. “That’s not why you kept moving” he told her. Eve blinked, stunned to silence. “You don’t do it to protect everyone else. You do it to protect yourself, Evie. This way nobody ever gets close. Putting down roots would make you vulnerable, so you avoid it”. 

There was a beat of silence, then Eve tipped her head. 

“If that’s true…you only know it because you do the same thing, Diego”. 

“Yeah, well. Shitty childhoods will do that to you. You think you’d have come out the Academy normal if the old man found you?” 

“You think you’d have turned out normal raised as an omen of the Apocalypse in a religious cult?” she pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Two could play at that game and Diego seemed to sense that was what it was about to come, shifting and putting away the last knife. 

“Our Dad just numbered us. He didn’t give us names; he had our Mom do it after he built her when we were four – and he never used our names”. 

“I was named by the Elder of the Church for the woman who caused original sin and the downfall of humanity”. 

“I was sold at birth; me and my siblings were purchased like novelty items. In a house that took up a whole city block, he gave us bedrooms the size of prison cells”. 

“They made me sleep on a metal bedstead, locked in a concrete shed, from the age of five”. 

“We were forced to live to a regimented timetable that gave us only a weekly half hour for what was deemed ‘fun and games’” Diego said, a note of confidence in his voice that he could match anything she offered. Smiling slightly, despite the morbid subject matter, Eve pulled her knees up to her chest. 

“So that the Brethren could remain self-sufficient, we were put to work on the farm and in the fields as soon as we could be. Child labour – three-year-old slaves” she emphasised. 

“To hone our powers, we were treated as experiments, forced to train daily and subject to constant observation”. 

“The only education we had was Bible verses and basic maths so we could count enough to help with planting”. 

“He risked our lives, sent us into dangerous missions whenever other people wanted. I got this scar at sixteen, and he told me to try harder and be more careful next time”. 

“We were made to fast regularly, prayed on our knees till we were bruised and fainted, with no medical attention for injuries or illnesses”. 

“He threw Klaus into a mausoleum and left him there with corpses for hours when he was thirteen. My brother has never been sober since”. 

“Oh, so we’re not just talking us two? Our Elder stated God told him to multiply his family, that was the excuse he gave for marrying all the teenage girls once they turned thirteen” Eve said, the words spitting out of her with rage. Even before she left, she had known that was wrong, had been uncomfortable with his revelation – and since living outside of their rules, she had only grown more convinced. For a moment Diego halted, looking more horrified by that disclosure than anything else she had offered so far. 

“Shit – bastard! You were married?” 

“No…I wasn’t worthy of his attention. Fucked up as that sounds, it makes me the only girl in the place who wasn’t a teenage rape victim. Still think you can win this game?” Eve pointed out, bitter – not from the lack of attention, but from the world she had been raised to think was normal and suffered in for two decades. “Or do we admit that with these childhoods we’re both losers?” 

“Shit” Diego said, slumped a little, his lips falling open and mouth ajar as he turned to look at the wall. “Gotta hand it to you there – this game doesn’t have a winner”. 

She had known since she read Vanya’s book that her childhood wouldn’t have been less fucked up if she had been one of the Academy, whereas how bad her background had been was news to Diego. For a moment both just sat there, digesting the sorrow that was their own lives, before he leaned forward and caught her hand. 

“We escaped though. They might be dicks, but they didn’t break us”. Eve smiled, the expression clearing all the shadows from her face and she squeezed his fingers. 

“Yeah. We did”. 

“So fuck ‘em. Right?” 

“Right”. 

He winked at her, the expression so full of charm she couldn’t help but blush. 

“Atta girl”.


	5. Growing Closer

Not having seen Diego in two days felt distinctly odd. She had spent more than two and a half decades without him, but their time together had become more and more frequent. He’d been stopping by almost every day, checking she was staying at the shelter and so she never went too far - even if she still spent more time outside, freeing up space for others, than he liked. 

She had gotten used to letting him come to her, not because she couldn’t be bothered to make an effort herself or didn’t care but because Eve figured he had better things to do and waited till he had time for her. 

But this felt unusually long and so Eve decided to take herself to the gym unannounced and uninvited. Stepping through the door she glanced around, feeling very out of place. Most of the people here were men, solid and muscular, often stripped to the waist as they held up wrapped fists and sparred. Eve thought she was more intimidated by the girls though – gorgeous and slim, with toned midriffs on display in tight clothing. Instinctively she shrunk into herself. She lived in layers, to avoid suspicion even though she didn’t need them for warmth. Her clothes were practical and shapeless, her hair loose with no more styling than a brush ran through it, her face devoid of makeup. Watching two girls taking a break, their skin tanned and glistening, she felt envy turn her stomach, but she forced herself to turn away and approach Al. 

“Hey” she began nervously. He turned to her, a cursory glance at her body before he looked to her face and recognition flickered. 

“Oh it’s you” he said, losing interest once he realised she was not a potential customer or fighter. 

“Is Diego here?” She asked, her tone polite despite his dismissiveness. 

“Not that I know of - haven’t seen him since yesterday” Al said, his comment trying to shut off the conversation, but Eve pushed forward. 

“Can I wait for him?” 

“If you want” he said, flapping a hand and turning back to the ring. Eve hovered for a moment there, glancing around the room with one last look at the girls before she headed to the back, down the hallway that led to Diego’s room. She knocked twice, and after getting no response tested the handle. Whilst it was Diego’s space, Al needed to know he could access the maintenance equipment in there, and the handle turned beneath her hand. 

She figured it was the best place to wait, peeling her coat off and draping it over the back of the chair, glancing around curiously. Naturally part of her was intrigued and wanted to explore, to look through his belongings - few as they were. Eve suspected he must have kept anything of value at the Academy where he grew up - but she resisted the urge. Instead she walked to his bed and sat down, kicking off her shoes, shuffling backward so her spine was against the wall. 

Eve spent a lot of time sitting around with little to do. She was practised at letting her mind wander, tilting her head back against the wall and closing eyes. Most often she tried to remember things she had read, knowledge she had gained in libraries - certainly not memories of her own life. 

Returning to the gym Diego rolled his shoulders, sore and exhausted. The place was dark now, those who had been working out gone home. It had been a rough few days, he’d found and beaten up a dealer - and followed that lead, trying to scare their contacts enough to leave the drug game - and he’d done little for sleep, eat and follow up information for three days. A couple of times he had thought of Eve but he hadn’t had time to get over there. Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow he’d go make sure she was ok. Diego was surprised to find he missed her. 

That thought left his mind as, approaching his room, he spotted that the tape he used to watch for intruders had peeled off. Immediately he pulled a knife from his back, adjusting it in his grip as he moved close to the door. He couldn’t hear anything, and he turned the handle slowly, pushing open the door and lifting his arm to throw the blade - but the dim light revealed a familiar face and he lowered his arm, still holding the dagger. 

“Dangerous, kid, breaking in and sitting in the dark” he said, sounding it annoyed but at least part of that was the worry that he could actually have hurt her. 

“I was worried about you” Eve said, sat up right now, dazed from having been half asleep as she sat there for so long. Hitting the light switch to brighten the space, Diego swung the door closed and approached her, chuckling slightly. 

“You were worried about me?” He repeated, incredulous. 

“Of course. I hadn’t seen you in a few days - I thought maybe you were hurt” Eve pointed out. There weren’t that many people that worried about Diego, and his face softened at the idea this girl, who he couldn’t help but think of as young, felt she had to look out for him. 

“Not hurt - just busy” he assured her as he walked over. 

“Busy?” 

“Work. Sorted now though” he said, rolling his shoulders to try and ease and loosen the muscles there, tight from fighting. 

“You look exhausted” Eve said softly. There were shadows under his eyes, his chin darker with stubble than usually, his shoulders slumped. “Is there anything I can do?” She offered. Eve had no idea what she could do to help, as people went she wasn’t the most useful, but the words escaped because she wanted – wished – there was a way to ease the burden. It was just she would need to be told how. 

He chuckled softly. Some people get grumpier when they’re tired, worn down they start snapping, but when Diego was exhausted, he was gentler, the usual prickly guarded front harder to keep up. 

“Nah, kid. S’fine. You’ll be glad to hear I’ve even eaten so you don’t have to watch me with raw eggs again” he assured her, sitting on the bed beside her and stretching his legs out in front of him. He dropped his head back, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes. 

For a moment she watched him. His parted lips, his dark lashes, the line of his jaw - she couldn’t deny he was nice to look at. More than nice. Romance hadn’t featured highly in her life, and didn’t now either in truth, but she knew enough to know he was handsome, and she stole these moments where she could admire him without his gaze on her making her feel awkward. 

“Like the view?” He asked, eyes still closed. She blushed pink, an awkward giggle escaping her. At a loss for a response and eager for something to do - to help and to occupy this quiet moment - she moved and slid off the bed. Dropping to her knees she pulled the began undoing the laces of his boots. That had him opening his eyes, his brows creasing as he straightened up. 

“Hey, whoa - you don’t have to do that” he said, shuffling his feet backwards but Eve shrugged. 

“You’re exhausted - and look like you’re about to fall asleep” she pointed out, reaching out anyway, pulling one of his boots off for him but he sat forward then and moved the other. 

“I can sort it” Diego insisted, taking the other off himself. Sitting back on her feet Eve looked up at him, at a loss of what to do. 

There was something...provocative about seeing her on her knees. Diego never saw himself as awkward, flirted easily most of the time, even with her - but now he had to swallow awkwardly, his mouth dry as he met her blue eyes with his dark gaze. They sat there staring at each other for a moment, but it was Eve who broke it, turning away. 

“I just came to make sure you hadn’t gotten yourself killed - I’ll let you get some rest” she decided, scrambling to her feet - moving so fast she stumbled and wobbled. He caught her, his hands on her elbows to steady her and Diego didn’t let go as he stood up. 

“I’ll take you home”. 

“No - Diego, it’s fine. You rest, I’ll be ok” she insisted, stepping out of his grasp. His fingers trailed along her arms initially as she moved away but he shook his head and moved in, grabbing her again. 

“No chance sweetheart. I’m not letting you go out there alone this late”. His tone was light, almost teasing, but he was firm on this - Diego could be very stubborn. Perhaps in his line of work (if one could really describe vigilantism that way) he had a pessimistic view of the safety of the street, but he wasn’t budging on this. 

“Diego-“ 

“Crash here. You can have the bed, I’ll take the chair” 

“No!” It wasn’t the idea of staying at his room, or even in his bed, that bothered her - just the fact that he thought she would let him sleep in his chair when he was this tired. 

The argument went back and forth a few times, neither one making any progress. 

“You won’t win this, kid” he insisted. 

“You can’t sleep in the chair, you’re exhausted” 

“Fine, we’ll both sleep in the bed. Then I know I’ll be warm” he chuckled. Eve hesitated, and Diego knew he’d won. 

“I’ll lend you some clothes”. 

She changed in the bathroom, stroking along the sleeves of his jumper. It was one she’d seen before, although clean today, fraying at the hems and around her wrists with laddered threads along the torso. Coupled with his shorts she felt cosy and somehow comforted by his clothes. 

Padding back into his room she tugged the sleeves over her hands - and halted at the sight of him shirtless, wearing loose sweatpants. Glancing up he flashed her a brief smile - thinking how sweet she looked like that - as he yanked a wife beater over his head. Eve wasn’t sure if she was pleased or not that he’d covered up. There was something about that tanned skin over taut muscles than made her fingers itch, had he stayed that way she might have given into the curiosity - but it was also a shame to say goodbye to the sight. 

“I should warn you. Not for negotiation - you’re sleeping by the wall” he advised. Eve shrugged, no preference as she walked over and scrambled onto the mattress. Shuffling over she pressed up against the wall - it was a double bed, but she wiggled over to give him the space. 

Dropping down beside her Diego chuckled seeing how much space she left. Laying down, one arm folded and beneath his head he flashed her a grin. 

“I won’t jump you, kid, you don’t have to hide over there”. Grabbing a ball by his head he focused for a moment then threw it - and it hit the light switch on the far wall, plunging them into darkness. She heard Diego yawn, and felt the shift of his weight and he wiggled into the mattress. 

Eve would never have agreed to this if she hasn’t trusted him to behave himself. They might have only known each other for a few weeks, but she trusted him. Here, she felt safe, and that wasn’t her reason for having wiggled over. She tried to relax, inching slightly closer to avoid insulting him, but she stayed awake. 

It was odd in some ways. Many ways. She had spent years focused on survival. Years where the only time she was touched was with violence, where she watched the Elder marry girls her age and younger with such revulsion, she was almost relieved to be the one they overlooked, years on the streets or in hostels where she just wanted to be invisible. To look at a man and find herself wanting his notice, wanting to look at him, thinking about his touch - she wasn’t sure what to do with that. How she managed a friendship while coping with such feelings - because Eve had no expectation of anything more than from Diego – she wasn’t sure. Evie had no hopes or expectations though that this would change. She knew enough to know how many women would want him. 

The thoughts churning in her mind kept her awake. Whether Diego’s mind was at peace or just his body exhausted she wasn’t sure, but he fell asleep in minutes. His breathing was deep and regular, soothing as a background - then he moved, shifting in his sleep, and threw an arm across her waist. 

His loose embrace only muddled her mind more - and yet she found herself inching slightly closer rather than pushing his limb away, closing her eyes and getting herself comfy. Her mind didn’t slow for a long time, but Eve wasn’t even sure she wanted to sleep as Diego rolled nearer and tightened his grip. 


	6. Soft Mornings

He woke up warm, with hair tickling his nose and a weight pressed against his chest. Diego jolted, looked down - and saw the blonde head of Evie against his shoulder. She had fully pressed herself against his side, one hand resting on his chest with her fingertips gripping the singlet he wore. The embrace wasn't all her making- one of his arms was underneath her body, wrapped around her waist, palm against the curve of her hip. 

It had been a long time since he woke up with somebody else - it was one thing to go to bed with a girl, another to sleep alongside them. The last time he woke up alongside somebody it was Eudora - and she was a nightmare to sleep with. A firecracker in the sack but even when they’d been a couple he’d preferred to leave afterwards - she had freezing feet and she moved around so much, kicking him in the shins and elbowing him in the ribs. He used to get more bruises from her than boxing. 

Eve hadn’t disturbed his sleep at all - he was comfortable and cosy. So much so that he didn’t even want to move. The morning light seemed warmer, less the blue grey that usually seeped into the space but tinted with gold and changing the room to a softer place. Diego wasn’t somebody to stay in bed of a morning, but in this warm cocoon he stretched and then slumped back into the dent formed by their bodies. 

One hand lifted and stroked at her hair curiously. Diego didn’t know many adults who wore their hair so long; Evie’s curls brushed against the flare where her waist met her hips. She was so blonde as well, and curiously his fingers slid into the curls, wrapping one around his fingers and drawing it closer, studying the shades woven into the strands – and trapping himself in the tangled waves. 

Evie hadn’t woken up with him, and when he shifted under her the only reaction was her snuggling closer with a whimper, but as he tried to free his fingers and yanked at her hair Eve opened her eyes. 

“Ow - what- “. Her voice was thick with sleep and confusion as she blinked blearily. 

“Sorry - got caught in your hair. Didn’t mean to wake you” he said, lifting his other arm and reaching it over to help escape the mess. Freed, Eve sat up, looking around as her brain began to put the pieces of the morning together. 

She had never woken up with somebody else. Normally she was quite a light sleeper, fitful dreams and nightmares waking her regularly - to have slept for so long, so deep, had her confused and disorientated this morning. 

As her mind put pieces together, she realised that she was not just in Diego’s bed but curled up practically on top of him - and she shrank backwards, wiggling away and turning with an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to steal all your space” Eve said, shuffling closer to the wall. 

He didn’t mind. He hadn’t woken up frustrated, he’d slept well, he felt peaceful – unusually so for him. Part of him wanted to pull her back down against his chest and slide his arms around her again. He resisted that urge, tried to ignore it and push it out his head, as he sat up. 

Instead, he sat up and got off the bed, stretching his arms above his head and feeling the joints of his shoulders pop. Diego walked across the room, keeping his back to her on purpose while he schooled his face and hid whatever confusion it might show at this time. It felt safer. Crossing to what he had for a kitchen he leaned against the counter 

He only turned back went he felt controlled again, the guard he wore raised as he offered an easy, lopsided smile. 

“So kid - pancakes?” 

She eyed the tiny area he called a kitchen sceptically - a sink, a mini fridge and a microwave - before looking back to his face. 

“Are you planning to pour all the ingredients in your mouth and mix them there? Because I made my opinion of raw egg clear”. 

“That you did - but no. I’m saying we go out and get some breakfast”. 

Eve studied his face for a moment but then shrugged and smiled. It had to be better than not eating, and the shelter didn’t offer breakfast, so she didn’t have other options. 

“Sure” she said, dragging herself out the bed. The advantage of not being one of the pretty, groomed girls she admired meant she would be ready rapidly. Standing in the gym’s changing room though she fingered his jumper that she had borrowed. Eve knew she had seen Diego wear it more than once, despite its fraying hems and pulled stitches. If he was fond of this, he would miss it, notice it had disappeared and probably figure out where it went. Still she held it, rubbing the fabric between her thumb and finger - before suddenly shoving it into her bag. She wanted a tangible piece of evidence of last night and the morning, a piece of him she could carry with her, something to comfort her - part of her thought it was a terrible idea, she was stealing from her only friend - yet she zipped her rucksack up anyway and hauled it onto her back. Decision made. 

He took her to the same diner as the night they met, and this time she ordered the pancakes he had raved about as well. When the waitress left, she nodded to the menu, her hands sliding under her thighs as she spoke. 

“So - do you have some weird pancake obsession?” 

“What? No” he scoffed, reaching for the salt and twirling it, his hands feeling itchy and empty without his knives. “I like pancakes the appropriate amount”. Looking up his brown eyes found Eve’s incredulous expression, one eyebrow raised, and he rolled his eyes. 

“My Mom used to make us pancakes, ok? They’re good food”. 

For a moment she was silent and then, shifting her position so she could nudge her knee against his under the table, Eve asked, “What is she like?” 

He glanced up sharply, checking he wasn’t being mocked. Having read Vanya’s autobiography Eve would know their mother was created with the express purpose of dealing with all the aspects of parental care their father was uncomfortable with – so essentially, everything, allowing him to focus on scientific experiment and education. She would know that Grace was a robot, but there was nothing judgemental in her gaze and his shoulders dropped from their tensed position as he responded. 

“She’s kind and patient – even when my brother Klaus was being a nightmare, she never got angry with him. She’s always hopeful and accepting and believes the best in people, even when they don’t deserve it”. His voice had softened when he spoke of his mother, true affection in his tone, but the bitterness crept back in as he thought of the way Grace always defended Reginald, the way she always seemed to expect that he might suddenly act like a real father to the group instead of a scientist taking notes and never looking up from his desk. 

“Do these pancakes compare?” she asked him as the two plates arrived before them and Diego scoffed. 

“Not a chance. Hers are better. They make ‘em better than I do here though”. 

Before he left home his Mom handled all the meals - Grace was an amazing cook, naturally. When Reginald built himself a servant, he wasn’t going to settle for less than delicious gourmet meals - and Diego had learned from her. He had always been closer to her than any of the others, and he had gotten into the habit of spending time in the kitchen, first watching her then helping. Part of the reason he didn’t mind living without a kitchen was to cook reminded him so much of home he rarely wanted to do it. Eve looked stunned at the revelation. 

“You can cook?” 

“Hell yeah, baby”. 

“You’re just full of surprises”. 

He winked – or rather, offered the expression that was, from him, a wink even if the other eye almost closed as well. It might not be the most accurate expression, but Diego knew well the effect it could have, and he watched with satisfaction as once again Eve blushed at the sight. 

“Someday I’ll show you”. 

Exactly what went unspecified.


	7. Fight Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Note: This chapter contains some references to low-level violence, in the form of boxing, and anxiety response.

“What you got planned Friday night?”  


Evie hadn’t even had time to close the car door before Diego sprung the question. A vertical furrow appeared between her brows as she looked over to him, her reply delayed as she slammed the door and reached for the seatbelt.  


The car began to move immediately, Diego only waited for her to be sat down before he drove off. The relationship he had with the vehicle was like that with his knives; he drove as though it were an extension of himself. There was an ease to his movements, gloved hands relaxed on the wheel, and he talked to her casually, usually glancing over frequently, so in control within this element that his eyes jumped from the road to her face without concern.  


Today was different; Diego didn’t look over at her and the leather was stretched tight across his knuckles as he gripped the wheel, and although his voice attempted casualness his words were taut, betraying that he was not as relaxed as he was trying to appear.  


“I - well, nothing. I never have plans” she pointed out. She had recently begun helping at the shelter, although it was more volunteering assistance to thank them then it was a job, but Diego formed the entire basis of her social life still. “I’m either spending it with you - or at the shelter? Same as always?” The tone betrayed her uncertainty, her response sounding more like a question than his as her voice wavered.  
“I’ve got a fight - figured I’d see if you wanted to come along”  


“You’ve got a fight?” Eve asked, not putting the pieces together initially.  


“Yeah, a boxing match at the gym” Diego adjusted his fingers, the leather gloves creaking as he awkwardly shifted his grip and stretched out his fingers. Studiously he kept his gaze on the road awaiting her response.  


“Oh - okay then”. Her tone was far lighter than his own, genuinely relaxed as opposed to the forced casualness Diego has used - but no sooner had she replied, then set of his shoulders slid down, his fingers curling into their more comfortable, customary position. “How often do you have these sorts of fights?”  


“Every few weeks roughly. Al holds fight nights to raise more money. People pay admission, place bets, he gets the money from the door and the winner of each match gets a share of the pool” he explained. Diego used them as a primary source of income, which was great motivation not to lose.  


“How...much does it charge on the door?” Hesitant, Eve wondered if she should have checked that before she agreed to attend. So far, she hadn’t managed to find a job without any documents to prove her age, nationality, or identity.  


“Don’t worry kid - fighters are allowed one guest who doesn’t pay”. Most brought their partner; Diego didn’t add that. The last time he had somebody come cheer him on was when he and Eudora were together, even though she hadn’t fully approved and usually took the chance to lecture him afterward whilst mopping him up.  


She nodded, but she still had some questions.  


“So... do you not get enough fighting with people the rest of the time, without boxing?” He snorted with amusement at the question.  


“It’s not the same. Boxing has rules. Form. Cleaning up the streets...anything goes. Plus, I don’t use my knives in the ring”.  


“Do I need to know the rules to understand?” Her brow puckered again at the thought and Diego smiled gently, although there was nothing mocking in the expression.  


“Nah - you just cheer when the guy I’m punching hits the floor” he assured her. Eve figured she could manage that much.  


She arrived later than the time he had suggested - and looked different. Evie had mentioned she had Friday night plans with Diego casually to the workers at the shelter and some had gotten irrationally excited for her and insisted upon lending her clothes. The shapeless parka, the layers of jumpers, the ever-present rucksack, never far from her hands in case she needed to flee fast - all were left at the shelter in the locker that had become hers.  


Her hair was freshly clean and loose in waves, tamed from its usually uneven mess of ringlets and frizz and overall confusion that couldn’t quite decide how curly it wanted to be. The shape of her slim body was revealed by a tight black top and skinny jeans, even if her skin was still covered by long sleeves and a high neck. She had never worn clothes like this in her life and her fingers tugged at the hem, tried to pull the sleeves over her hands, trying to hide within the one layer she was afforded, on loan, tonight. Growing up the women she knew all wore dresses that concealed them neck to floor, designed to be loose and mask the body beneath. Her own style followed a similar vein, her intent to be invisible, even if she eschewed skirts and dresses – and had refused them tonight as well when Brenda tried to press them on her, insisting they no longer fitted her daughter and might as well go to use. She knew she couldn’t handle wearing the offered miniskirt, that she’d lose her nerve long before she got to the gym. Evie had thought the selection she had accepted would be close enough to her usual outfit to feel comfortable, but it still revealed her figure more than anything she had worn before and had gained far more attention on her walk then she was comfortable with.  


Her muscles were coiled as she entered the gym, fingers a-flutter as her hands clenched into fists and then splayed before jumping to her clothes again. Eve tried to stop herself fiddling, wrapped her arms across her stomach but pinched and plucked at the fabric around her waist, pulling it away from her body. Just inside the door she stopped, teeth worrying at her lower lip, her eyes darting around the room for a familiar face, her shoulders hunched forward.  


Diego saw her first. His gaze noted the new arrival, and for a moment moved over her body with interest – then lifted to her face where he jolted in recognition. A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth, lips falling apart in ...well, he supposed appreciation would be the world at her appearance. She looked - his brain usually fed him adorable when he thought of Eve, but the world that popped up today was beautiful and he rapidly shook that idea out his mind. At which point he registered her posture and crossed the room rapidly to her side.  


“Hey kid - you okay?” He checked, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders. He pulled her into his side, more for her comfort than anything else, but the pose was protective as well – enough to stop the interest in any gaze that moved to her. Eve relaxed slightly, more comfortable with him at her side, and she turned her face up toward him with a smile that was part relief and part pure delight at seeing him.  


He too had eschewed his chosen uniform for the night, no tactical gear and ragged jumper, but a loose vest and shorts, the muscles in his arms clear and she swallowed as she took note. Even though she had seen it before, the effect it had was still the same – her stomach tightened and twisted over, and her already hot blood seemed to boil in her veins.  


“Yeah – you?” she checked after a moment, swallowing, before licking her lips, confused at how dry her mouth seemed to have gone. He squeezed her shoulder and nodded.  


“I’m fine. Come meet some people, yeah” he said, guiding her across to a few people stood chatting, and who all greeted him with affection. Eve was quiet, nodding and offering slight smiles as she was introduced, letting Diego do all the talking. The conversation was rapid, full of chatter, people who knew each other so well they didn’t wait for the other person to finish before they began speaking. Eve’s gaze jumped from face to face to try to keep up but she didn’t say a word, content to watch and hide in the shelter his arm provided, relived he made no more to let her go why he talked.  


She glanced up at him repeatedly, a smile curling the corners of her mouth each time she did. He was animated, chuckled regularly, his face relaxed. His free hand gestured frequently, the other squeezed her shoulder or upper arm regularly and he looked down at her each time he laughed, checking up on her. Cautiously she unwrapped one arm from her stomach, sliding it around his back, returning his loose embrace – and he pulled her closer without fully registering that he’d done so.  


The chatter was just how everyone killed time before the main event though and eventually a bell rang, Al shouting out, grumpily, that it was time to begin.  


“I’ll see you after, kid” Diego told her, his arm dropping from her shoulder, his fingers briefly skating down her back and to her waist before letting her go and nodding to his friends. “Keep an eye on her yeah”. Eve swallowed, trying to hide how exposed she felt without him there and nodded, offering him a smile that attempted to be far more confident then she felt.  


“Good luck”.  


“I don’t need it – trust me” he said with a wink, one hand lifting and pinching her chin gently, before he walked away.  


He wasn’t the first, or only fight, of the night – and once the first match began Eve had to wonder if she was going to be able to stay here till it was Diego’s turn. Every punch thrown had her wincing as the rest of the crowd cheered and shouted, the noise around her overwhelmed her, and she flinched whenever somebody hit the ground instead of cheering. Somehow, she hadn’t fully anticipated just how violent this would be, nor had she realised the memories it would resurrect.  


She stepped further away when she could, ducking toward the back of Diego’s friends, her hands creeping under her hair and covering her ears under the curtain of waves to try and block some of the noise. Even so, the sound of fist on flesh got through, each impact having her taut muscles tensing and jolting as she recalled the time such blows had landed on her own skin. Part of her wanted to flee, this was exactly the sort of situation she’d normally run from, but she kept repeating over and over in her mind, like a mantra. I’m here for Diego. I’m here for Diego.  


When he appeared, he was stripped to the waist, but this time she didn’t notice any effect on her body caused by the sight of his abs and smooth chest. Her heart jumped as he got into the ring, but Eve was quite sure that was nerves rather than the strange feeling Diego normally provoked.  


Diego glanced over to her, a loose smile touching his mouth briefly as he spotted her, but he frowned, registering her nerves. He couldn’t focus on that now though, not if he wanted to win – and he wanted to win. Always. Shoving his guard into his mouth he looked to his opponent. Until the end of the fight, the only things that mattered were in this ring.  


It might be easy to think his fights – whether they were on the streets or in the ring - were always fuelled by rage. Not for Diego. He dealt with all those things when he was training, when it was just him and a punching bag. His father. Luther. Ben’s death. Five’s disappearance. Vanya’s book. Allison’s success. That’s where he could unleash those feelings.  


When he faced somebody else, he wasn’t angry. This was where he felt most in control, most focused. A cold clarity in his thoughts that let him guess the next move, dodge the punch, aim for their weak points to get through their defenses.  
As usual, it worked. He rarely lost a fight – in truth, just often enough to keep the bets rolling in. When Al lifted his arm in victory Diego looked back, for Evie, immediately  


When he turned to their corner Eve tried to mimic the cheering of his friends, her hands lifting in applause, but her smile was wan and thin – and when he left, and the next fight began she mumbled an apology about needing air and bolted outside.  
She hadn’t returned for the third fight or when Diego emerged, his part in the evening’s event over and the night beginning to wind down now. People had been drinking all night and by now the atmosphere was more about the social event then the fights. Dressed head to toe in his customary black again – albeit without the harness or any obvious weaponry - he approached his friends, concern growing as he realised Evie wasn’t with them. Distracted, he slapped their palms as they congratulated him, before nodding to the space she had occupied.  


“Where she’d go?”  


“Your girl? Said she needed some air after your fight”. He didn’t correct their assumption, heading outside immediately to find her.  


Evie had crouched, her back against the brick wall, her hands over her face as she slowed her breathing and tried to push out the thoughts. The sound each punch landing, watching round after round of blows, had brought back far too many memories and she had been so focused on trying to get her head quiet she hadn’t noticed the time pass – or Diego approaching.  


He crouched before her, bare hands moving to grasp her wrists gently so he could pull them away – but she flinched at his touch and yanked her hands away from his touch, revealing eyes so wide he could see the white around the blue of her irises. He held his hands up, his voice gentle as he spoke.  


“Just me” he assured her. Eve nodded slightly, but her heart was hammering, and her muscles spring-loaded once again from the shock. Diego watched her without words, thinking. Remembering how Ben would be after a mission, how when he was startled, he jumped more than the rest of them. Thought of Klaus, staring into space, recoiling if you tried to get his attention with a touch on the shoulder. The victims he saw at night, cowering from him as much as they had the bad guy.  


He had seen enough people hurt in his time to recognise the signs. “Just me” he repeated, reaching out slowly to catch her elbows and drawing her upwards with him as they straightened up. “You wanna talk about it?”  


Eve stared up at him, her vision blurring as tears appeared after a moment although they didn’t fall. She had jumped at first because anyone had touched her – but then she had expected Diego to be angry. He brought her here to support him, and instead, she bolted. She felt she had let him down, and assumed he’d be annoyed with her, frustrated that she couldn’t just be normal and hang out with his friends. To see him soft, and concerned, was too much kindness – more than she had ever expected in her life, and far more than she deserved.  


Gently he pulled her closer, one arm wrapping around her and holding her to his chest, the other cupping the back of her neck as he rested his chin on the top of her head.  


“It’s okay” he assured Evie. “It’s okay”.


	8. Scar Tissue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Specific Note: References to past abuse and trauma.

After a few minutes he unwrapped his arms from her, dropping one hand to take hold of her own. Getting cold was never going to happen even this late on a brisk May evening; holding Eve was like hugging a thermos. When people began to leave, however, they’d be seen, and Diego figured she’d rather have some privacy right now. Tugging her gently, fingers squeezing her own, he led them round the back of the gym and through a rear exit to his room. She was silent as she trailed behind him, primarily because Eve wasn’t sure she could trust herself to speak. Her eyes still shone with unshed tears, but she was relieved to be in his room with the door shut behind her, where it felt safe, unlike the expanse and animalistic noise of the gym. 

He hadn’t let go of her hand yet and led her across his room, only dropping her fingers as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees as he looked up at her. Eve stood, awkwardly, her arms folding back across her stomach and cradling herself. 

In this safe space, a room she felt secure where she didn’t have to worry, her mind began to think. She could hear, like a distant roar, the people in the gym celebrating and she registered what she had pulled him away from – the chance to enjoy himself. 

“I’m sorry” she blurted out. He frowned very slightly, and she pressed on. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – I ruined your evening, I’m sorry-” 

“You didn’t ruin anything, kid”. 

“But – your friends, and the fight-” 

“Hey”. He stood back up and stepped close, hands moving to gently hold her upper arms. “It’s fine. Are you okay Evie?” 

“I’m sorry” she repeated. 

“Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter and you’ve done nothing wrong. But you’re staying here tonight, so I can keep an eye on you” he insisted, squeezing her arms gently. She bit her lip, worried, but looking up at him all she saw was concern in his face. There was none of the rage she had expected, and she sank into herself, muscles uncoiling under his hands. Part of her felt she should argue. Should point out to him that she had ruined his night, that she should go home – should leave full stop and never return so she wasn’t a burden. But the truth was, she didn’t have the energy or the heart to argue that. And whilst it felt like leaving him was the kindest thing for him, Eve knew she didn’t have it in herself to walk away from Diego. 

“Can I borrow a shirt? This top – it was loaned to me and I just. It’s too tight” Eve told him. He nodded, rubbing her arms once more before letting go and padding over to a dresser. He yanked it open, pulling out an old t-shirt and handing it over before looking back to the drawer, figuring he’d find her shorts as well. It was tempting to tell her she looked nice in this new outfit, but he wasn’t sure that was something Evie would want to hear, or if right now that would make her uncomfortable, so he left the compliment unspoken. 

Grabbing a pair of shorts, he turned around. 

Eve had turned away from him and peeled off both the long sleeve top and the crop top she wore in place of a bra beneath. It hadn’t occurred to her to leave the room to change – this room was a place she was safe, and outside the door was strange and uncertain. All she had been thinking was about getting comfortable, out this top where the fabric hugged at her and made her feel trapped and wrong; the material flush against her skin felt like a trap she had to free herself from. 

It was not the fact she was topless that occurred to him but the sight of her back. 

Diego was no stranger to scars, but he’d never seen anything like this. He couldn’t see any unmarked skin, every inch seemed to be thickened, wrinkled scar tissue, overlapping in long horizontal lines that stole all the words out his mouth. His chest tightened with horror as he processed the level of violence that many marks must have taken. He couldn’t have counted the scars, the sight of which left him stood frozen - till she turned her head to glance over her shoulder at him, waves of her blonde hair shifting and falling to conceal the marks. 

Realising at that moment she was half naked under his gaze the reality of the situation suddenly hit her, and her cheeks flushed pink. Her brain whirled, trying to think of what she could say to fix this situation. Everything came up blank, turning to face him hardly felt like a better option, and now he had seen the mess that was her upper body already she couldn’t hide - but Diego moved before she could plot any course of action. 

“Wuh-wuh-wuh-what-” He hadn’t heard his stammer in years, but it tripped his tongue and betrayed him as he lifted his empty hand to gesture at her back. 

“They’re old” Eve assured him, answering a different question. “It’s all - it doesn’t matter” she insisted, using one hand to shake the shirt he had handed her, unfolding it, as her other arm crossed her body for modesty. Diego wasn’t so easily dissuaded. One hand reached out to her shoulder, gently turning her away from him. His fingers trailed higher, to her hair, pushing it off her neck and forward out of the way as he stared at the scars. 

“Evie - what are these?” He asked, brushing a finger down her spine. 

A shiver rolled through her and she closed her eyes for a moment. The fight had brought this memories to the surface and they all fought for her attention as she considered his question. When she spoke, her tone tried to sound unconcerned, but a waver betrayed her. 

“They thought I had the devil inside me. That’s what they told me. That I’m demon spawn and burn with hellfire - they were trying to save me” she managed to explain. 

They made her sleep on a metal bed frame in an empty room, without a mattress or pillows, to stop her setting bedding alight in her sleep. They read to the Bible to her, forced her to repeat the words, to learn the prayers - but every sign of the flames was proof the evil in her still won and her mistakes were disciplined with a belt or a whip. The punishment was public, she’d be stripped naked and curled on the ground, surrounded by everyone chanting verses as the Prophet tried to beat the sin out of her body. She could still hear the crack that would arc through the air before the searing pain, and the overlapping voices, indifferent to her cries. 

Sometimes she could suppress her power long enough it almost seemed to work. They’d begin to believe the evil had left her. She’d be back in Bible classes, back in the fields, almost blending in to all the children for weeks, even months… but then something would happen, and she’d slip up. Eve felt tears jump into her eyes as she recalled the nights spent curled up on metal slats, her blood dried into a crust that crackled when she moved, her back burning with pain - and in the present she lifted a hand to cover her mouth and try to silence the sob that escaped. 

“Shit” he whispered, the one word laced with anger and a million softer emotions - but seeing the tremble in her shoulders and hearing the gulped back cry he turned her to face him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. 

“Hey – you’re not a demon. I know that much. I see enough bastards to know evil, and you’re not it” he told her, his voice fierce with conviction. He wasn’t thinking about why in that moment when he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, he wasn’t thinking about the fact she was half naked, all he could register at this moment was what she was unhappy – and how dare anyone have done this to her. 

Eve wasn’t sure she believed in God, or Hell, but grow up being told over and over that you’re the devil’s child, that you exist only to torment the Lord’s True Prophet, that you are made of sin and shame – and you’ll believe some of it. Diego was the first person telling her something different. 

Her fingers curled into jacket, gripping the fabric tight as she hid her face against his chest, her tears absorbed by his clothing. He moved one hand awkwardly – it felt wrong to touch the scars, as though they might hurt despite their age – and slid his fingers into her hair instead, smoothing it gently as he tried to comfort her. Diego thought now he could make an educated guess as to why the fight had bothered her so much. To have been beaten so many times that her entire back would become scar tissue, testimony to that level of abuse… and he invited her to come and watch as he punched some guy. He’d invited her to show off, to have her witness him in his element, he’d wanted to win in front of her. Idiot. 

“You don’t have to come watch me fight again” he said, the words falling out mostly to fix things although as soon as he said them Diego was sure they weren’t going to help. It was just the only way he could think of as a way of reassuring her. 

“I wanted to come – it matters to you” she murmured, her words muffled against his chest. “But I just….” 

“Bad memories” he filled in for her, thinking of how he felt when he saw adults yelling at their kids. 

“Yeah” she whispered. His fingers untangled from her hair, moving to the nape of her neck and sliding higher, rubbing against her scalp and she closed her eyes, comforted by the caress more than any words. Her fingers loosened their grip, slid under his jacket and around his back as she hugged him back, and he tightened his grip very slightly. Her hair was soft, tickling slightly against his stubble, and her body warm against his, easing his bruised muscles. 

Eve knew the embrace was about the fact she was upset, and she had accepted it for that reason. But the longer it went on, pressed so close she could feel the firmness of his abdominal muscles against her stomach and her breasts, his fingers running over the sensitive skin on the back of her head and her neck…the distress she had been feeling faded and replaced with an odd feeling, that same one she had before when she saw Diego shirtless or in clothing that revealed his arms. 

She wasn’t the only finding her emotions shifting. The way she had looked tonight had reminded Diego that Eve wasn’t a kid, regardless of what he called her. She was his age, and in her own way very pretty – even in the layers she normally used as camouflage. Without them she was gorgeous. 

But of course, he had known that hadn’t he? Why else had he asked her to come to his fight? Why else had he held her so close, to stop other men looking? Diego could tell himself it was about being kind, unselfish, looking out for this girl who had so few other people – but holding her this close, with her fingers digging into his back and the scent of her skin filling his head, he knew there was more to it. 

“I’m sorry” she murmured again, the words her bad habit, they spilled out any time she felt, as she did now, guilty even if she didn’t know why. Slowly – reluctantly –she peeled her body off his, shaking her head so her long hair half fell forward concealed her front and she turned away intending to grab his shirt and cover up. 

Although he had loosened his grip when she moved, he caught her arm, stopped her from turning away. The movement was one born of instinct. He didn’t want her outside of his embrace. He didn’t want to let go. 

“Evie…” His voice was as soft and inviting as his hold on her had been and there was nothing she could have done in that moment to stop herself looking back at him. At the warm brown eyes, at his parted lips, his skin flushed from something she didn’t understand. 

She didn’t recognise the foreign feeling, but Diego did. He’d been with plenty of girls, but this feeling? This feeling where he didn’t want to let go of her, where he wanted to keep her safe, where he wanted to make sure nobody ever hurt her again, the way he wanted her body against his own, to hold her and feel her warmth just for the sake of it – it was more than he felt for most girls. The last time he had this feeling, which gripping around his heart in a way that was almost painful, it had ended up messy heartbreak. A deep-down rational voice in his mind told him it was a bad idea, but Diego had never been about logic in his life. He lived with his heart. 

Pulling her back toward him Diego lifted one hand to her face. His thumb brushed beneath her eye and along her cheekbone, his gaze flicking from her mouth – soft and pink, her lips parted – to her eyes which had darkened as he drew her close. 

“Diego” she whispered, unsure what she was trying to say. Her voice was low, and uncertain, but he knew enough to be sure that was a lack of experience rather than unwillingness. Leaning down he kissed her, the other hand lifting to curve along her neck as he closed his eyes. His touch ghosted along her skin as though she were made of porcelain, his mouth covering her own and catching at her lower lip.


	9. Kisses and Misgivings

She gasped softly, her hands moving by instinct to his waist, fingers fisting into the leather of his jacket as she tilted her head back. His mouth moved against her own and she mimicked it, until his teeth grazed her lower lip and she whimpered softly. He broke away, opening his eyes and watching as her lashes fluttered against her cheeks before opening to stare at him. He searched her face, checking for her consent, before drawing her back in and kissing her again, his tongue sliding past her parted lips to touch her own. 

The first kiss had been soft and gentle, but he pulled her in closer this time and his hand fell from her face, tracing down her body to settle on the curve of her waist as he deepened the kiss. She was warm and willing, pliable against him, and as then, as his tongue skated across her lip, she whimpered again - and the noise inflamed him. His grip on her waist tightened, the other hand burrowing into her hair and grabbing a fistful of the soft waves, holding her head back as he kissed her hard. 

This was all new for Evie. Watching other girls marry their Prophet when she was a teenager had left the bitter bile of disgust in her mouth. She’d been untouchable then, and safe because of it, but after she left the idea of letting a man that close had left her nervous still. Couple that with the fear of her power, of flames and heat that could burn just beneath her skin, and Evie had become entirely averse to anyone touching her. Diego was different though. She felt none of the old sense of fear she used to get when men tried to flirt with her, or she saw couples engaged in public displays of affection. There was no fear that he’d discover her secret; he knew it already. Eve couldn’t even think about how inexperienced and bad at this she must seem. It was impossible to gather a coherent thought and she let him kiss her, trying her best to replicate the movement of his mouth, but mostly focused on being as close to him as she could. 

Her hands loosened their grip on his jacket and crept beneath, sliding along the flat plane of his back up to his shoulders - and he let go of her to yank his coat off, the heat of her body combining with his desire to make the jacket not just unnecessary but outright uncomfortable. Struggling out of it he let it drop to the ground, both hands moving to her hips and gripping her there for a moment before one slid higher, over the dip of her waist and her ribs, to find her breast. His fingers cupped it, thumb brushing over her nipple - and at that he felt her stiffen. 

Breaking the kiss he saw this time nerves in her face, and lowered his hand immediately back to her waist. 

“Too fast?” He said, his tone apologetic. 

“I’m sorry - I’ve never-” 

“Hey” he stopped her there, lifting both hands to cup her face, knowing she’d drop her gaze even before she did it because she always ended up staring at her feet when she started apologising. “Evie - it’s okay. Look at me - I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do”. 

She could see the truth in his eyes, and one hand lifted to cover his own on her cheek, her expression aglow with gratitude. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead gently, and the tip of her nose, before returning to her mouth to brush his lips softly against hers. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you” he murmured, and she blushed, twisting her fingers around his. 

“You don’t scare me. This is just... new”. 

Part of him wanted to ask how new, but he was wary now of upsetting her on this evening when she’d already been shaken so much. The desire he’d felt when kissing her had faded somewhat, not gone, just overwhelmed by his concern. 

“You decide what happens tonight Evie. I won’t do anything you don’t want”. It wasn’t a power game he was intending (though God knows he had plenty of experience in that realm) it was about giving her the space and time she needed, and he dropped his hands to emphasise that, awaiting her next move. 

For a moment she hovered uncertain before grabbing the shirt he’d offered her and pulling it over her head, hiding the scars once more. Covered up, she hesitated for a moment, before stepping closer to him. Her hands slid up his chest, palms flat against the shirt he wore, before creeping to his neck. One stayed there, the other moved higher, fingers tracing the length of his scar before moving to cup the back of his head and pulling him down so she could kiss him. 

It had none of the certainty of his kisses, her movements hesitant, her mouth gentle against his own. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, trying to copy what he’d done that made her knees weak, and her teeth grazed his lip - and she heard the faint moan from him at that. 

It was maddening, like being teased, to have her explore like this and hold himself back. His hands moved to rest on her waist, fingers holding the fabric more than her, but he didn’t let himself do more, allowing her to take the lead. After a couple of minutes though she broke away, dropping back from her tiptoes that she had to balance on to close the inches between his height and hers. 

“Can... we sit?” She asked, her voice breathy and breathless at the same time. He nodded at once, dropping to perch on the edge of his bed, resisting the urge to pull her onto his lap. Eve sat beside him, prising her shoes off with the toes of the other foot before curling up, knees resting against his thigh. The break in the kiss had stolen her confidence, and her fingers nervously rested on her own lap even as they itched to reach for him. 

For a moment he watched her, then leaned down and took his own shoes off too before half turning on the bed to face her, one foot on the ground, the other resting on his opposite knee. He reached out and took her hands – but dropped them instantly, her fingers so hot they felt like a burn. 

“Careful kid” he murmured gently, and her cheeks flushed as she curled her hands into fists and closed her eyes, focusing on cooling them down. After a moment she relaxed, fingers splaying out though her eyes remained closed. He reached out and grasped her fingers, still hot but not painfully so now, and sliding his grip up to hold her wrists he leaned forward and kissed her neck. She tilted her head, allowing it, as he kissed a path up to her ear and whispered to her, “What do you want?” 

“I don’t know...I just...I want you” she murmured, confused by her own feelings but she could feel the way he smirked against her skin. 

Diego couldn’t have denied that it felt good to hear, although mindful of her nerves he trod carefully even after her statement. Gently he brushed her inner wrists with his thumbs, feeling her rapid pulse fluttering beneath his touch as he kissed her neck softly. 

Before either one of them could work out the next step there was a thud on the door, and Eve jumped, the wide-eyed stricken look back on her face immediately. 

“Hargreeves! You better not be trying to get out of cleaning up!” Al yelled through the door, and Diego let out a different kind of groan. Releasing his grip of Eve, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek, he stood and walked across to the door. His attitude was none too friendly as he yanked it opened, positioning himself in the gap so Evie was hidden. 

“I can’t clean the gym with people out there” he pointed out, and an insult didn’t need to be spoken at the end of the sentence, its presence so clear from the irritated tone of voice. 

“Yeah, well, just don’t forget. Figured you were slinking off to get out of it” Al snorted, turning to shuffle away. Diego swung the door shut with a thud that was slightly satisfying - but not enough to balance out the annoyance. Walking back to the bed he sat beside Eve, one hand lifting to brush her cheek and tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. 

“You want to go back out there? He’ll only keep bugging me if he thinks I’m hiding”. Diego hadn’t even finishing posing the question and she shook her head. For a moment he considered, weighing options before she offered one herself. 

“Could I... just wait here? And you go out and ...I’ll see you after?” She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to ask, in terms of good manners, but it felt like the best option to her. Diego could celebrate and not get into trouble, whilst she stayed safe. 

He considered for a moment. Whilst it sounded odd it made sense to him that she didn’t want to be in the crowd and crush of people just now. In Diego’s mind, it also had the added bonus of giving her some space. Some time to think. Where she wasn’t feeling pressured, and he could be sure he wasn’t taking advantage. 

“I can do that. And be back after I’m done, then Al will leave me be - if that’s what you want” he checked. His walking away, the whole interruption, had thrown her slightly but she nodded. 

“I’ll wait for you” she said, offering a faint smile. He stood up, his fingers trailing along her arm and then nodded as well. He left her perched on the bed. 

When he returned, she’d lay down, and fallen asleep. Her jeans were discarded on the floor though she still wore his T-shirt, which covered to the tops of her thighs, her legs bare. One hand under her cheek she lay on her side, lashes still against her cheek. His smile came unbidden. Stripping down to his boxers he slid in the bed behind her, slotting himself against her body. The movement woke her, but she relaxed on seeing it was him, and he threw an arm across her waist. 

Not how he figured the night would end, he reflected as he closed his eyes, but Diego wasn’t complaining. 


	10. Coffee and Conversation

He woke to the smell of coffee and that was a novelty- usually it was a bang on the door and Al shouting. Still groggy and confused, Diego rolled over to find the source. Eve was sat in a chair, her bare legs crossed like a child, his T-shirt and her hair crumpled, nursing a mug in both hands. 

Sitting up he rubbed his head, last night flooding back into his head. She nodded to the floor by the bed. 

“I made you a cup too” she told him hesitantly. She had been awake a little longer than him, slowly rousing from sleep to find herself wrapped in Diego’s arms with his face buried in her hair. It wasn’t finding the situation, or the sensation, uncomfortable that led her to carefully escape and seek caffeine, but it was that it was a lot to process and she thought that coffee might help. 

It hadn’t so far. 

What had it meant to him? What did she do now? Was it a one off, or the start of something else? Did he care, did he want her, or was it pity? Eve had no answers to these questions and hadn’t found them in the mug she held, her hands aglow like the last embers of a fire as she kept her drink at a temperature most people would find unbearable. His being awake hardly helped, even though she hadn't missed the look of warmth in his eyes as he spotted her. 

Diego sat up, reaching for the cup. He could guess from she’d been awake awhile; without her skill his cup had already cooled to room temperature. Throwing his head back he drained the mug with one swallow before swinging his legs off the side of the bed and placing his feet on the floor. 

Looking at her he could guess that something was on her mind – and Diego was pretty sure he had a few thoughts of what that might be. His only concern was that she didn’t regret last night or feel taken advantage of. It didn’t mean he wasn’t harbouring hope she’d be willing to continue, merely that he was more worried she’d have regrets in the cold light of the morning. 

Although he thought she was pretty – even, or perhaps especially, right now with her hair mussed from sleep and her expression less than fully awake – Diego hadn’t initially thought of Evie has being his type. Normally he dated girls with more (figurative) fire, more backbone, fewer nerves; though while she might be less bold, but she was no coward. Something in her though pulled out all his protective instincts, an urge to shield her that overwhelmed his desire. 

Standing up he walked over to her, and as her eyes dropped nervously, he crouched so she couldn’t avoid his gaze, instead finding herself staring right at him. One hand rested on her bare knee gently, thumb stroking a soothing circle on the stretched skin, the other hung loose between his legs. 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on in that head? I’m not a mind reader”. 

“Now that would be a useful power” Evie murmured, deflecting slightly. Telepathy was the sort of ability she could have seen the use in, rather than always being a little warmer than everyone else and having that occasionally burst out in flames that burned down the bridges she tried to build with anyone. He squeezed her knee, his eyebrows raising slightly. 

“Not what I asked”. A beat of silence. “Talk to me kid”. 

Eve always had slightly mixed logical thoughts about the nickname he’d given her – to be called kid by somebody the same age as you can feel a little patronising, but at the same time she liked knowing that she had earned a unique moniker from him. At least, she assumed it was unique – she hadn’t heard him use it before. While her thoughts were confused, her feelings weren’t, and that form of address usually warmed her heart a little. But this morning it didn’t help with the tangled mess within her head. Opening her mouth, she tried to find words, but courage left her, and her lips closed after a moment without a word escaping. She tried a second time, but speech defeated her again and she sighed, frustrated with herself as she turned away, her hair tumbling forward in a curtain that shielded her expression. 

Diego wasn’t having that, and reached up his other hand to her hair, tucking it back behind her ear, his fingers trailing their way down the line of her jaw and her neck. Beneath his touch he watched a flush spread along her skin. That reaction left him sure that whatever the reason for her reticence it wasn’t that she felt she had made a mistake in kissing him, and that reassured the little doubt in his heart, born of a childhood playing second best. 

“Evie” he murmured, determined to get a response from her. “What’s wrong?” 

She knew she had to say something. Anything. 

“Do you think of me as a kid?” 

Perhaps not ‘anything’. It was words, which was a start, but not the one she had hoped for. 

Diego chuckled slightly, his hand moving to cup her kneecap, the movement allowing his fingers to trail along the soft skin just above the joint where her inner thigh began. 

“That’s what getting to you?” 

“No. Yes. No. I just….” Evie sighed, a scowl creasing her features, but her annoyance was aimed inwards. At least the sentence before had managed to be eloquent even if it was a terrible starting point. “I don’t understand why you kissed me”. She was blushing more now, but not from arousal as his fingers brushed her skin lightly, but from her own idiocy and inexperience. 

He watched her for a moment, before squeezing her leg, trying to get her to look at him. 

“I kissed you because I wanted to. That’s really so hard to believe?” Eve looked back to him, practically on his knees before her, his hand holding onto her leg and his eyes soft. She often thought of how he had the most expressive face, the set of his jaw telling her all she needed to know about what Diego was feeling even if she struggled with what other people were thinking. Hesitantly one hand let go of her mug, falling to her lap where her fingers lost their glow as she tried to cool them down. 

“And…what happens…now?” Eve asked, her voice barely audible even to her, but he caught her words. Remembering last night, he decided to repeat that sentiment, to offer her a sense of control. At the same time the nervousness in her face, that sense of not being good enough, of being scared to believe you might be worthy of attention…that Diego could recognise enough that he expanded to offer reassurance. 

“Whatever you want. But I wouldn’t say no to another kiss”. He smirked and she flushed, her fingers sliding out now to brush over his knuckles and he immediately turned his hand over to grasp hers. The temptation to pull her down was strong but he waited, watching her, letting her make the move. 

Eve put down the mug on the counter, leaning sideways to do so, before looking back to him. Unfolding her legs, she put her feet either side of him on the ground and leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders to brace herself as she closed the gap in a kiss that caught his lower lip between her own. He tasted of the same coffee as her, though his tongue was cool compared to the heat of her mouth as she deepened the kiss, feeling his other hand lifting and both sliding to grip to her thighs, fingers digging in with just enough pressure to be pleasant. 

She wasn’t sure how long she kissed him, her hands sliding to grip the short hair at the back of his head, his own hands creeping up and under the shirt to hold her hips, but when she pulled away she was pretty sure she saw stars from lack of oxygen, blinking a few times to try and get the dark spots out her vision as she gulped down a mouthful of air. 

Her hair had fallen loose and tumbled around him, and the swinging lightbulb illuminated her from behind with a glow that had him find an all new nickname without a moment’s thought. 

“C’mere angel” he murmured, his voice thick with arousal as he pulled her forward by her hips so she slid off the chair and straddled him, the both of them falling so he sat on the ground with a thud but Diego couldn’t even care as he pulled her body flush against his and dropped his mouth to her neck.


	11. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW.

Her skin beneath his mouth was almost uncomfortably warm but soft, and as his teeth grazed against her neck she tipped her head back and whimpered softly, his name lost somewhere in the sound that escaped her, a sound she had never made before and would have found embarrassing if it wasn’t for the way he gripped her tighter when he heard it. Diego was never somebody who had been averse to noise in the bedroom, and the best kind was the whines and moans that came without any calculation. Eve’s reactions were just that – no calculation and he focused on trying to provoke them, his tongue tracing up to the shell of her ear and sucking at the thin skin behind, just where her hair began, to hear the breathy response that escaped her. 

Dropping her fingers from his head her hands moved to his upper arms, fingers trailing along the muscles there she had seen flex and shift beneath his skin at the fight last night, and which were currently tight from the effort of holding her hips. 

Tempting though it was to return the favour as she explored his upper body, Diego kept his hands where they were, thumbs pressed against the ridge of bone. He wasn’t so far gone that he forgot how she had tensed last night when he moved too fast, and his grip had the dual effect of keeping his hands in check and keeping her close. Too close almost, he could feel her body warm against his, his crotch pressed against the heat between her legs, and he couldn’t help the physical reaction he was having. 

She shifted as her hands traced up his arms and then down his front, putting enough space between their bodies that her palms could slide down the smooth skin of his chest, thumb brushing against his nipple, and down to the ridges of his abdominal muscles. As her hips moved, he stopped the kissing, for a moment burying his head against her shoulder and suppressing a groan. 

“Diego” she murmured, her head tilting forward, and he lifted his face. “Something wrong?” she checked, her voice wavering between arousal and fear and he shook his head quickly. 

“Hell no” he whispered, kissing her mouth briefly to punctuate his words. “Quite the opposite”. 

The ground was hard against her knees, braced on the floor either side of him, and she shifted her weight to ease the ache – and in doing so realised what he meant and the nature of his ‘problem’. She was inexperienced, but she had read biology books. Curled up in the corner of a library, trying to hide her choice of material by pulling up her knees to screen the cover, a weird mix of unease, disgust and another emotion she hadn’t been able to name twisting in her stomach, she had learned all the things that her upbringing cloaked in shame. 

The third time she shifted her hips against his it was deliberate, and the pink in her cheeks was there from pride as well - another sin, but she had committed so many by now it hardly mattered. The idea she could have an effect like that on Diego, who always seemed so sure of himself and so confident, was intoxicating and Evie’s urge to repeat it overcame any qualms about her inexperience. 

His moan was therefore not a surprise but the hoped-for outcome. What she hadn’t expected was her own reaction. The movement, pressing the core of herself against the hardness between his legs had her gasping as a fluid heat shot through her, as though her blood start singing in her veins. Her fingers curled, short nails digging against his stomach as she did it again, her eyelids fluttering shut as she caught her breath at the sensation. 

Diego wasn’t sure what felt better - the feel of her moving against his cock or the sound that escaped her as she discovered her own pleasure in doing so. One hand let go of her hip and his fingers were on her inner thigh almost before he knew he’d moved. 

“Can I?” He asked her, fingers hesitating there until she nodded, and he slid his thumb from her thigh into her underwear. Diego brushed her clit and her hips bucked immediately, as he swore beneath his breath at how slick she was. 

His thumb brushed backwards and forwards, his eyes on her face watching her eyelids flutter and her mouth form odd breathless shapes, half formed sounds catching in her throat each time his touch grazed the sensitive nub. Tipping her head forward, she forced her eyes open – and saw him watching her closely, gaze trained on her face, lips parted. Despite how clearly pleased he was at her reaction she flushed, trying to turn her head away so her hair would hide her expression, but he shook his head even as he slid his hand out her underwear. This he wanted to see. 

“Diego-”. 

“Bed” he said, not trusting himself to manage a full sentence in that moment. Evie scrambled to her feet, her knees feeling shaky, but she moved to sit on the mattress, watching him as he got off the floor with far more grace than she had managed. He moved to her at once, pushing her by the shoulder gently so she swung her legs up and lay down and he climbed onto the bed and lay beside her. Lying by her side, their bodies pressed together, his hand moved to pull up her t-shirt, exposing her stomach, whereupon he pressed her palm flat to her skin and slid it down, past her underwear, past the crinkled hair and back to the heat and wetness between her legs. Her head tipped back against the pillows as he touched her again, exposing her neck. He lowered his mouth to the juncture where her neck and shoulder met, worrying the skin there with his teeth and tongue as he slipped his index finger inside her. 

“Oh-” 

The noise was all pleasure and her hands grabbed the sheets, gripping the fabric tightly as her strength allowed, as he began to slip his finger back and forth, his thumb tracing circles that kept her breath hitching in her throat. She had never felt anything like this before, the pleasure rising inside her like a wave as she spread her legs further apart. The material of her underwear grew damp, and Diego used this to slide a second finger inside her, lifting his head to watch the reaction from her. 

“Yes – oh – please…”. Eve wasn’t even sure what she wanted, what she was asking for, but her body knew as she ground her hips against his hand. His pride fuelled his arousal; when she forced her eyes open to meet his, his gaze was black with lust. He sped his movements up, not kissing her now, just watching. He was almost uncomfortably harsh pressed against her thigh, but she wasn’t capable of doing anything to help, mewing softly as he coaxed emotions out of her she hadn’t known existed. 

“Diego” Eve whimpered, and he chuckled very faintly at the sight of her, helpless with longing and lust. Turning her head she found his mouth with her own, pressing their lips together and he kissed her hard, sliding his tongue out to meet her own as her mouth opened in another gasp when he curled his fingers inside her, finding the spot that made her back arch off the bed. Her cries were muffled by his mouth, which was his primary reason for breaking the kiss, eager to hear her – and as he repeated the movement, a high-pitched noise escaped her. 

“You like that angel?” 

“Yes…oh yes…I want…” 

“What do you want?” 

Eve didn’t know the words, just that her body wanted something more – but Diego knew. Her legs spread further apart of their own accord and he used this to slip his fingers deeper inside her. She hissed at that, the press inside her provoking a sense that was more uncomfortable than pain, and he was reminded of how inexperienced she was. He eased up slightly, his fingers inside her slowing, but his thumb sped up, coaxing more sounds from her until her body spasmed, every muscle going taut for a moment. It felt like a crescendo inside her stomach, and then it exploded, and she collapsed back against the mattress. At that he slowed his fingers, his touch gentle as he guided her down, watching her chest heave with breath – and then her eyelids fluttered and she looked at him again, swallowing and trying to catch her breath. Removing his hand, he slid his wet fingers up, along the skin of her stomach, hot and damp with sweat, as he leaned down to kiss her. 

Easing her fists opened she lifted one hand to the back of his neck – but he flinched away, her skin burning him as surely as a flame. 

“Sorry” she murmured, in the same moment smelling charred cotton which caught his attention too and they both looked down at the sheet where her hands had been, the fabric bearing scorch marks from her fingers. Diego would have sworn in that moment he could see the shutdown begin, that anxiety and fear she carried everywhere creeping up to close off her expression – and he leaned in to kiss her and stave that off. His hand moved higher beneath her clothes, reaching for her breast and squeezing the mound in the palm of her hand, noting this time she didn’t flinch or stiffen at his touch. 

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t care” he told her; voice certain as he kissed her again. He would put up with a hundred ruined sheets, and worse, for the chance to see her arching her back as an orgasm rolled through her body. 

The kiss and his words helped a little, but not entirely, and doubt still ate at her. It only increased as she became aware of his erection pressed against her leg and, looking to her fingers which were glowing red, realised she couldn’t help. He followed her gaze, and in doing so her train of thought. 

Throwing a leg over hers, nudging her thigh with his knee, he reminded her, “Angel – I said, what you want”. 

“I want to make you feel good”. 

Diego considered the options, his mind far dirtier than her and offering plenty of solutions, but Evie had come up with one herself – the only one her mind offered, but nothing she was opposed to doing. She knew her body had wanted more, and with her heart slowing she had an idea of what that might be. Shifting she pressed her hips against his, the movement more certain that the look in her eyes. 

“You sure?” he checked. Diego wasn’t reluctant, far from it, but the last thing he was going to be was somebody who made girls do things they didn’t want because they felt they had to. 

“I want you” she whispered. That was all he needed, and he caught the hem of shirt and tugged at it. Evie moved away from it, removing it herself and tossing it aside, dropping to lie back down and hide her scars against the sheets again. No sooner had she stopped moving and his hands grabbed her underwear, tugging it down her thighs and discarding it without a second glance. His boxers followed seconds later. 

Eve stared at his cock which had sprung free, and one hand moved towards him – but she spotted how her fingers were still glowing and she curled her hand into a fist, pulling it back to rest against her sternum so she wouldn’t hurt him. Diego leaned forward and kissed her, hands cupping her face and thumbs brushing her cheeks, so she’d look at him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you” she whispered, lifting her blue eyes to brown ones, but while she looked nervous – not at the idea of what he’d done, solely at the idea she’d cause him pain – he was confident. 

“I’ve got an idea” he assured her. “Trust me?” 

She nodded, the worry fading. Of course she trusted him. Completely. He kissed her again, one hand reaching for a condom from under the bed and then, his lips coming off hers, he ripped the tiny packet open. 

“Lie down” he said, and Eve complied, watching with her stomach churning as he slid the rubber over himself. Tossing aside the packaging he knelt between her legs. His hands ran up her sides, mentally filing away the way she squirmed as he brushed her ribs, before he grasped her arms and pushed them up, over her head, guiding her hands to the metal bedframe. She figured out his meaning, and wrapped her fingers tight around the iron, anchoring herself there as he leaned down and kissed her neck. 

He’d be lying if he said he’d never had a thing for bondage and seeing her like this – even if she was entirely free to move in truth – had him harder than before if it was possible. His hands moved to her hips, holding her there as Diego leaned down and kissed her again. He didn’t move his lips off hers as he moved, lowering his weight, positioning his hips, and slowly – so slowly it was tormenting – entered her. At first, she moaned against his mouth but after a moment she hissed, breaking the kiss and he opened his eyes to check on her. 

“Okay angel?” She nodded, swallowing, and he kissed her softly. “Want me to stop?” 

“No!” The vehemence made him chuckle. 

“I’ll go slow” he assured her, and she nodded. It had been a long time since Diego had been with a virgin – primarily because he preferred women his age, and Eve was the only women in her late twenties he’d met who’d never been with a man – and he braced himself with his elbows either side of her head as he forced himself to shift forward slowly, resisting his own urges and focusing on her. She hissed again, but this time arched her back and pressed her hips against him; he felt a moment of resistance and Evie tightened her grip on the iron, and then he was buried within her and she was gasping for breath even as he curled his fingers into fists to hold himself still. The urge to plunge against her, the heat of her, it was almost unbearable holding himself still, but he waited, and it was Evie who moved again, and her whine contained pleasure as well as pain. 

Lifting his weight from his elbow to one hand, muscles in his bicep tightening to support him, he slid the other hand between them and brushed his thumb across her clit, and she moved again, lifting her hips against his as she moaned. He kept his focus on that, brushing small circles as his hips began to move slowly, and the heat of her clenching had him groaning as loud as her. With his hand moving between their bodies she couldn’t focus on the faintly stretched uncomfortable feeling that had made her tense up, her body was flooding with a new heat again and his rocking against her was only helping that feeling. She twisted her fingers around the iron, hardly aware that as he began to move faster her hands turned white and the iron began to glow with the heat as well. Diego wasn’t looking either, his focus on her face and the way her lip began to tremble at which point he sped up slightly, giving his own body what it wanted as he thrust into her – until she quivered and cried out, her inner walls clutching at him as an orgasm rolled through her body and he came in almost the same moment, dropping his face to her neck as he released. 

For a moment they lay like that together, their sweat intermingling as they tried to get their breath back, and it was Diego who moved first and lifted his head. His expression was soft as he looked down at her, her head spread out on the pillow, and then he glanced up to her fingers and smirked at the sight of the iron which had her tilt her head to look too. As she pulled her hands away there were slight indentations, the combination of her tight grip and the heat having scarred the metal and her cheeks flushed. 

“God, you’re hot”. 

After a beat she began to laugh, the terrible pun entirely altering the atmosphere as she giggled, her body shaking against his for a very different reason.


	12. Breakfast

When the laughter faded, they lay there for a moment, her hands sliding to his back in a loose embrace, his face buried in her neck as his heart settled down to a steady beat and he lifted his head to look down at her again. He had thought she was pretty last night, but this morning like this – her skin flushed from exertion, her lips swollen from his kisses, her hair rumpled and surrounding her on the pillow – he leaned forward and kissed her softly, reverently. She was beautiful. 

“I’m gonna shower” he announced, gently peeling his skin off hers as he pulled away. “Then I’m gonna get us breakfast”. He hadn’t eaten after the fight last night, there had been more pressing matters, but his stomach was now less than gently reminding him that he didn’t run off air. 

She had already wondered what followed next, what happened after this, but she blinked and smiled, that concern fading as he outlined a plan. Maybe by the time they ate she’d have begun to understand what happened next. Or at least found the courage to ask. 

“The gym’s closed today if you want to shower too. Ladies locker room will by empty”. She nodded, watching him leave the room before unfolding herself to take his advice. By the time she returned to his room – once again wearing his clothes, a situation she could happily get used to – he had already disappeared out the building and she took a seat on the bed, cross legged, lifting her hands and turning up the heat in her fingers as she began to run them through her long hair. Other people had hairdryers; she had her powers. 

He returned home to find her, hands aglow and steam rising above her as the moisture evaporated off her hair, turning the wet mess into her usual confused mass of curls and frizz. Diego walked back through the room, a bag in his hands, and smiled at the sight of her – an expression he tried to disguise immediately. Walking around, he put the bag on the counter and crossed the space to the bed to take a seat beside her. 

“So how hot can you burn?” He asked curiously. Eve shrugged. 

“I don’t know” she admitted. Nodding towards the head of the bed, the metal rods bearing imprints from her fingers earlier, she continued, “that hot I guess?” 

“You’ve never tried to see how far you can push it?” Diego was incredulous. Admittedly he’d spent his childhood honing his skills and being pushed to the limits, but he imagined even without that he would have been motivated to see what he was capable of. 

“I never wanted to be able to do this. And whenever it happened... I was punished. I was nine before I realised…that I could control it, before then I thought they were right saying it was hellfire. Mostly I try and stay as cool as I can” Eve pointed out, tipping her head forward and letting her still damp hair fall forward over her face. 

When she was very young it happened in her nightmares more than waking hours. She’d be woken surrounded by flames that didn’t seem to touch her with other children screaming with panic. She had believed the Elder when he preached it was hellfire, proof of her demonic origins, and she had prayed every night that God save her. But as she got older, she began to see other signs. How she could carry a pan from the fire without oven gloves. How she could warm her bath water back up. The way that, when ill, her fever burned so hot that touching her left marks on other people’s skin. She had realised she could control it - but her goal had never been to see what the highest temperature was, that she could reach. 

“You can try it here without being punished” Diego told her gently. It wasn’t why he was attracted to her, but he couldn’t deny being intrigued. 

“Thinking you could get a crime fighting sidekick?” She joked pushing her hair back from her face now it was dry. It was the only reason she could imagine he’d want her to learn to control it and push to see how hot she could go. He chuckled, shaking his head and looking down. 

“No chance angel. Like I’d let you out there on the streets” he said simply, standing up after a moment and grabbing the takeout bag to bring it back and sit beside her again. 

“You don’t think I could handle it?” Had he outright asked her to do it, if Diego had suggested that she consider training and fighting with him, Eve would have shied away from the idea. She had never fought anyone in her life and had only ever been on the receiving end of violence – but the fact he wrote her off had her bristling. She was one of the same group of births as the Umbrella Academy, even if she wasn’t one of them. With the right training… 

Diego shook his head, adamant. 

“I’ve trained for this since I was a kid and I still get hurt out there sometimes” he pointed out, pulling food out the bag. “And you think I’d ask you to put yourself in danger?” He shook his head again, the chuckle escaping him until he lifted a sandwich out the bag and tore into it. 

It shouldn’t have been sexy watching him devour a sub as though he’d hadn’t eaten in years, but she felt a blush touch her cheeks and dropped her gaze. 

“So, why’d you think I should try and see how hot it goes then?” 

“Not knowing how to use the ability… that’s… part of how my brother Ben died. And I’d wager its why Five disappeared. Knowing your own limits is a way to keep yourself safe” he pointed out, the joking tone from a moment ago gone as he thought of his lost brothers. Ben, who never wanted to be part of the Academy in the first place, who hated his capabilities, and Five, who was so eager to prove himself as the strongest, the best, that they all suspected he’d tried to jump time as he had stated was his intent at breakfast the last morning they saw him. Eve turned her hands over, looking down at her palms thoughtfully. 

“What do you know about it?” he asked through a mouthful of food, nodding at her upturned hands. 

“I know… that my hands are the hottest and the easiest to channel it. I know that it happens when I get emotional. And I know I’ve never been burned”. Touching things hotter than her skin never hurt her or left a mark. He watched her talk, his head tilted to the side, as she looked down at her own fingers, loosely curled. 

“I’d just… rather learn to turn it off then up” she admitted, dropping them back down to the bed, sliding them under her thighs against the sheets. “Can you switch yours off?” 

“I breathe. Does that count?” She blinked, for a moment confused. Diego’s ability with knives – or other objects – was one he utilised so often she forgot he had another skill. 

“How did you figure out that you could do this stuff?” she asked, her mind jumping onto parallel tracks. 

“I don’t know. I can’t remember a time before I could do it. Our father seemed to have figured it out when we were pretty young”, he shrugged, taking another bite of the sandwich. How Reginald had known to take them and figured out the odd things they could do was a question Diego had never had an answer to, and he didn’t spend a lot of his time worrying about it. He could’ve wasted his whole life trying to fathom out the man who’d adopted him, but he chose not to. Actions over ideas was his philosophy. 

“But he trained you to make it stronger?” 

“Me? Nah, mostly he trained me how to fight”, the words half muffled through a mouthful of bread. Reginald had focused on Ben, Five and Klaus when it came to abilities whereas Diego, like Allison and Luther, had their lessons focused more on combat. Their abilities emerged young and were reliable early on with little effort. Occasionally he had wondered sometimes what their father wanted from Klaus, what he thought could be done with the boy he numbered as Four, that led to the amount of cruelty he’d subjected him too… what he thought would emerge. Eve interrupted that old wondering with another question. 

“Could you teach me to fight?” 

“I just said-” 

“I know. I didn’t mean to mess up that I just mean… living on the street can be dangerous. And I can’t always assume some vigilante is going to arrive with a pocketful of knives” she pointed back, thinking to how they’d met. Just a couple of months, even if it had felt longer. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt in danger, and Evie had always run. Learning to defend herself felt like a sensible idea, but he frowned. 

“You plannin’ on going somewhere?” he asked, his face furrowed into a frown as he lowered the food, distracted from his stomach by the suggestion she was going to disappear. 

“No – I just – the life I lead…” 

“You came to the city to find the Umbrella Academy. You found me. Why would you need to go leave?” 

“I didn’t say leave Diego… I just meant you’re busy and have your own life and – it would be good to be able to defend myself” Eve explained, exasperated and apologetic in equal measure as she tried to explain her thinking. 

“Yeah, but you’re not living on the streets now, you’re at the shelter. And you know where I am whenever you need me” he pointed out, pushing the bag toward her to encourage her to eat. 

“Whenever?” she asked, her voice nervous. He grinned, the expression lazy and self-assured, as he moved the bag and shifted closer, his hand lifting to touch her jaw. 

“Why don’t you just tell me what you’re thinking, kid?” When she didn’t respond he pinched her chin gently, waiting for her to lift her gaze to meet his. 

“People already think you’re my girl. I don’t tell them different” Diego told her. Eve met his gaze, and the teasing expression on his face sparked a smile from her. 

She was used to looking at the floor, fearful of meeting people’s eyes. It was a hard habit to break, but even Evie had to admit that whenever she did meet Diego’s gaze it was full of warmth and affection, none of the disgust, fear or hate she had grown up with nor did he look through her as if she was invisible as had become the norm living on the streets. The look in his eyes and the smirk at the corner of his mouth made her bolder than she thought she could ever be. 

“That clear enough, or do you have more questions?” 

“Just one” she told him, mirroring back the smile he wore. “How soon can we do that again?” 

That made him laugh, his hand snaking around her waist as he leaned in to kiss her. 

“Let a guy finish his breakfast first”.


	13. Past and Patches

Detective Patch was not happy - and she knew exactly who was to blame. Which was why she found herself sat in her car, in the early hours of the morning, outside Al’s Gym, staring at the road instead of at her house, eating chips and reading trash novels to unwind. It almost reminded her of the old days in a way, waiting for Diego to be done with dispensing his specific brand of justice - not a past she wanted to return to. However much affection she held for her friend, their relationship had never truly worked outside the bedroom. Patch wanted more stability then he could offer. 

As his car pulled up she sat up, throwing open the door and stepping out. Folding her arms she stared down his rust bucket as the headlights cut out and Diego emerged, the same cocky smile he always wore when interacting with her. 

“That file contained private information Hargreeves” she told him, getting straight down to business. 

“Nice to see you too Eudora” he drawled, using the car door as a shield between them as he leaned one arm on the roof. 

“Don’t play cute with me - that man was a witness, and you’ve just ruined my investigation. I’ve told you to stay out my cases!” Diego glanced into the car, as though not even listening to her, and Patch followed his gaze to the young woman sat in the passenger seat, her eyes huge and round, the look of anxiety and fear so obvious it would have set off alarm bells in a person with far less experience than her in spotting vulnerable people. 

“What the hell - are you adding kidnapping to your list of crimes now Diego?” Patch demanded, walking around the car. Diego’s history of going after snitches and informants as well as the outright criminals had her jumping to conclusions. 

“The hell? I’ve not kidnapped her - that’s your first thought?!” Diego was genuinely offended at the suggestion. 

He moved fast, slamming his door, and trying to get around the bonnet, but she had a head start and was the one to yank open passenger door and look down at the blonde, who visibly flinched away from her - and who was, incongruously, hugging a bag of Chinese takeout against her chest. 

Before Patch had managed to process this, Diego was at her side, one hand on her shoulder as he tried to pull her back from the car, but Eudora stood her ground. 

“Are you okay, miss?” Patch said, her attention on the girl as one hand swivelled her badge, still hanging round her neck, to show her. She wasn’t thinking Diego would have kidnapped anyone for nefarious reasons - but she wouldn’t put it past him to have a witness or a somebody involved to get more information. However good his overall intent, she was drawing the line at this, but Diego just scoffed, rolling his eyes. He dropped down into a crouch, looking up at the blonde from that angle - and Patch didn’t miss the way his gaze softened as he looked at the stranger. 

The look was one she knew, although it had been rare. Diego would look at her sometimes with the same expression, but it had been a vulnerability he rarely revealed, reserved for when the two were in private. It was enough to have her look at the blonde with more curiosity - and a touch more understanding as well. Not here against her will - just startled at her boyfriend being accosted by a cop when they were heading back to his place to eat takeout food. 

Evie met Diego’s gaze, waiting for some explanation of this odd situation. She had been startled by the raised voice, the sudden accusations, more worried at the trouble Diego might be in than he was - and learning that the woman was a police officer did not help settle her nerves. To her, cops weren’t people to be relied upon and sought out when you needed safety. She had been moved along by cops many times in her life, trying to just find somewhere to sleep for a couple of hours and being directed to get out of there by police. They’d never been a protective factor for her. 

“You’re alright kid. This is Eudora. She’s an old friend”. Old flame might have been more accurate, but Diego wasn’t sure how Eve would react to learning this was his ex-girlfriend and figured that gave her enough information to be working on as he straightened back up. He adopted his former pose again, one elbow on the car roof, half shielding Evie with his body as he turned back to Patch. 

“You know I hate being called Eudora” she grumbled, reigning in her annoyance at his actions. “I’m Patch” she said, offering the girl a reassuring smile. Evie eyed her a moment before getting out the car, her nerves still apparent in the way she crushed the bag, hugging it against her chest. She offered a tremulous smile and a hand, half covered by the sleeve, to make proper introductions. 

“Eve” she offered, leaning against Diego for reassurance and he dropped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in and pressing a kiss against the crown of her head. Patch filed all this away, taking the girl’s hand in a grip gentler than she usually used as she shook hands. 

“Nice to meet you Eve”. 

Diego could see the calculation in Patch’s gaze. Part of why she was a good detective was that she could be gentle and friendly, so people warmed up to her, and underestimated her - those dark eyes saw plenty and figured out more. It wasn’t with the gaze of an ex-girlfriend that she eyed Evie, it was as a detective, figuring out as much as possible and he straightened his back, squaring his shoulders without realising as though to make himself larger and more intimidating - a tactic that would never work on Patch, who knew him far too well. She had seen him with knives, knew how deadly he could be, and yet she had never hesitated to go toe to toe with him. 

“Go inside angel” he murmured, yanking a key out his pocket and handing it over to Evie. She looked up at him as she took it from his hand, worried, but he flashed her a reassuring smile. “I’ll be in in a minute” he assured her, hand dropping to her lower back and guiding her forward slightly. Evie took the hint, moving past Patch and offering an apologetic smile before heading for the gym. Neither Diego or Patch spoke as she walked away, and when she glanced over her shoulder at the door she saw both watching her. 

When the closed door was between them Patch turned back to Diego, her arms folded again in the pose she always adopted when lecturing him. 

“Who is she?” 

“Not like you to be jealous-“ 

“I’m not jealous” she pointed out, rolling her eyes - and it was true. There was none of the envy and old possessiveness of an ex-girlfriend, her tone was far closer to the questioning she adopted during investigations. It wasn’t Diego that Eve feared, but there were enough signs there to provoke her concern - the same body language she saw in domestic violence victims, the same nerves and stance, the look in the eyes. It wouldn’t be Diego who had beaten her, and in truth, Patch wasn’t concerned he’d be taking advantage either. Whatever Diego’s faults that ruined their relationship, he was a good man, and a momma’s boy which left him with respect for women that had been part of why she found him attractive. Even knowing this, she was concerned still. 

“That’s Evie, she introduced herself” he said, leaning against the car and folding his arms as well. 

“And she looked terrified”. 

“Of you, not me. You startled her” Diego pointed out. Not that he could be too hard on Patch for doing so, Evie frightened easily, and Eudora hadn’t done it on purpose. 

Patch sighed, dropping her combative stance and confrontational tone. 

“Just - be careful, yeah”. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You lead a dangerous life. She doesn’t look like she could handle the consequences of that” Patch told him, her tone softer and kinder now. He frowned, bristling still at the suggestion, but Patch was too tired to argue with Diego. “Stay out my car, out my files and out my cases. Your visit earlier has probably just lost any chance of getting a conviction - and that’s how we actually help people. Putting dangerous people behind bars-” 

“By working with prison snitches?” He interrupted with a snort. 

“Informants trying – hoping - to get out the cycle” she stressed gently. “I’m going home Diego. Enjoy your dinner - and take care of Eve” she said, turning to walk away. 

In the old days he’d have checked out her ass. It had taken Diego a very long time to get past his old feelings - truthfully, it had taken the arrival of Evie. It was a first for him that, instead of watching Eudora as she walked away, remembering how that sway looked without clothes, that he frowned, focused on her words instead. 

He watched her get in her car and drive away before he moved, slamming the door and headed inside the gym - where Eve had hovered on the other side of the door, waiting for him, still hugging the bag to her stomach. 

“Are you okay?” She asked and he smiled, the expression hidden by the half-darkness she was waiting in, as he shut the door and leaned down to kiss her cheek. 

“Of course”. He hit the light switch and took the key from her, turning to lock the door. She was still stood there, concern etched all over her face, when he turned back around and he chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “It’s nothin’ - long story, but no big deal” he insisted, sliding a hand around her waist and Eve finally moved, though she was still watching him out the corner of her eyes at him as they began to walk, the now familiar path through the gym and down to the basement boiler room. 

“You ruined her case?” 

“Ah, she’s just saying that. Don’t worry Evie” he assured her, beginning to peel off his gloves. Her questions weren’t going to get anywhere, and she fell silent as she headed down the stairs, waiting till they were in his room before she tried again. 

“How do you know her?” She asked, not looking to him as she began pulling cartons out the bag. 

“We were at police academy together” he told her, unbuckling his harness and hanging it up. “Then...” he considered his response and chose to omit the truth. 

He had loved Eudora. He still cared, that was true. Their relationship had always been based on flirtation, both when they met, and in the years since she had ended things. Getting over her had been hard. She was a good person, she’d always been patient with him and his ways, but they were different with different ways of looking at the world which had led to heated, repetitive arguments. For a long time, Diego had hoped she might change her mind. He didn’t hope that anymore. Rather than worry Evie - because he strongly suspected the truth would receive a bad response - he left it out. 

“We stayed friends. We work in the same business after all” he said, walking over to where Evie stood. He pressed himself against her back, hands resting on her hips as he leaned down to kiss her neck. The affection was, in his mind, a form of reassurance. He knew she wouldn’t recognise it as such given the version of the past he had told. Nor would it spark suspicion, Diego had been very physically affectionate since the night of his fight. Their relationship had been ongoing for a few weeks, but it wasn’t that he wasn’t this way because of a honeymoon period. He was a physical person, and more than that, he was fiercely protective over Evie in a way he never had been with a girl before. 

He hadn’t had many girlfriends. Beyond Eudora his history was focused on brief hook ups that never lasted or involved enough emotion to count as a relationship. Patch had been able to take care of himself; he’d rarely felt this emotion with her that he felt so often with Evie. An urge to shelter her, to her close and mark her as his to keep anyone else away, to ensure she never had to face danger again. Couple that with the touch starved environment of his childhood and he preferred to be in contact with her whenever he could, a hand on her skin whenever possible. Evie had no issue with this, happy to be within the reach of his arm at all time, comforted by his presence which helped soothe the nervous fretting in her chest. His touch, the kiss on her neck, didn’t raise any warning bells and it didn’t occur to her to see an ulterior motive. Instead Eve leaned back against him, the worry she had felt during Patch’s confrontation fading as she felt the solidness of his chest. His arms snaked around her, his teeth grazing her skin and she giggled slightly even as she felt her body reacting, something she had become familiar with. Evie was no longer confused by the twist of heat flooding through her stomach when she saw him shirtless. 

Turning in the circle of his arms she pressed herself against him, confidence in his attraction to her making her more daring in this area of her life at least, though it had yet to transfer anywhere else. 

“I would hardly think you could describe what you do as being in any business” she told him, ignoring the way his hands slid down to her ass now she faced him. 

“Call it what you like”. He wasn’t in the mood to discuss the matter, his mouth back on her neck, Eve tipping her head back to offer him access. His teeth grazed her skin again, her breath hitching slightly in response, as he gripped her tighter and pulled her body flush against his – in truth, to reassure himself, not her. To assure himself that his affections had transferred. That he had nothing truly to hide, that the story he told didn’t make this a lie. 

“Dinner will get cold” she pointed out, even as her eyes closed with pleasure. He chuckled, but didn’t stop, nipping at her neck before opening his mouth to suck on the skin, determined to leave a mark. She slid her hands up to his hair, gripping the short strands with her fingers till he lifted his head. 

“You could fix that” he pointed out after a moment; the words murmured against her skin so she could feel the air from his speech against the wet mark he had left. 

“Or we could eat first”. 

“This first. Then eat. Then maybe a second time” Diego said, lifting his head and she laughed softly but she didn’t say no, and when his hands slid down to grab the back of her thighs she grabbed his neck and let him pick her up and carry her across to the bed. 

Patch was the past. He was letting that go. Evie was the present… and the future.


	14. Wake Up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil bit of fluff. Yes I know I'm slow - even when I'm editing stuff I wrote ages ago for re-posting!

A fist on the door woke them - Diego with a groan and Evie with a start, sitting upright almost immediately.

“Hargreeves!”

Getting her bearings she lifted one hand to her chest, her heart racing and thudding, before looking down at Diego who seemed determined not to respond. It had been the early hours of the morning, dawn light appearing in the sky, when he got home, and he was not in the mood for this. Or for being awake full stop.

“Hargreeves get your ass outta-”

Having had no response Al had elected to just enter the room as he spoke - whereupon he found himself meeting Evie’s gaze and stopped in his tracks. She dropped one hand to Diego’s shoulder, shaking him and, with a drawn-out grunt, he rolled over and opened his eyes - then sat up himself on seeing Al. The old man snorted, unimpressed.

“She’s here again?” The question didn’t require an answer it seemed, Al didn’t pause, Evie didn’t dare, and Diego was not yet functioning.

“What is it?” Diego asked, voice thick with sleep.

“That punch bag fell down again”.

“I told you it was a patch job and needed a new harness”.

“Yeah, yeah, just go get it back up before the place opens” Al said, dismissive - but not leaving, waiting impatiently as Diego dragged himself out the warm blankets and, throwing on a T-shirt and sweatpants, headed toward the door.

“I’ll make coffee” Eve told him quietly and he nodded, still not awake enough for more than that. As he left the room and Evie unfolded herself from the covers she glanced to Al and, unsure why he was still there, thought it best to be polite. “Would you like some?”

“You what?” He asked, frowning. Evie attempted a smile, wishing she was wearing sweatpants herself rather than a pair of boxers and a loose T-shirt (Diego’s wardrobe was rapidly becoming hers as well, and especially since she’d taken over doing laundry for him, he saw no sense complaining).

“I’m going to make coffee, would you like a cup?” She offered, the second time the suggestion was proffered holding even more nerves than the first, as she crossed to the kitchen area. He seemed surprised by the offer, but after a moment he nodded, recomposing his frown even as he accepted.

“Black. One sugar” he told her gruffly, and she nodded.

When Diego returned - still half asleep, thinking to himself that he had to make it clear to Al it would keep falling until the hook was replaced - he blinked, confused at the sight. Evie was curled up in a chair, her legs folded beneath her to hide the bare skin beneath the shorts, her hands wrapped around a mug and her gaze on Al who stood, leaning against the sink, sharing stories of when he’d been younger and bought the gym.

“Course I didn’t have any girls back then - boxing wasn’t the thing for ladies”. Catching sight of Diego, he broke off from his sentence. “Fixed it?”

“Yeah… yeah, its fixed” Diego answered, glancing between the two. Al nodded, finishing the dregs of his coffee and putting the mug in the sink.

“I’ll go open up then” he said, dismissing himself with a nod towards Evie who uncurled one hand and raised it slightly as he left, passing Diego who was by this point beginning to question if he was actually awake. Crossing to where Evie sat, he took the mug she offered on autopilot, returning to the bed where he sat on the mattress. He drained the cup and threw himself back into the blankets.

Evie came back to join him, tidying the mess of the sheets and tucking it over the both of them, and it was only when she was in bed with him that Diego spoke again, half sitting up and looking down at her.

“Were you making friends with Al?”

“...should I not have?” She asked, unsure of what line she’d crossed now. Diego just stared at her. In the warm morning light flooding into the room she looked golden and glowing, which only added to his sense of disconnect from reality.

“Al doesn’t like anybody” was the dumbfounded explanation he offered, and she frowned, confused. She had barely spoken to Al so far, used to the fact that he was generally busy and didn’t have time for her - but Evie has thought it was rude to start brewing coffee in front of him without offering him one.

“Maybe because he thinks nobody likes him” she offered as a solution, a suggestion she could certainly relate to. Diego chuckled, shaking his head a little before lying down and pulling her close.

“If you can win him over you really are an angel”, the words muffled against her hair as he wound himself around her to get the chill of the gym in the early morning out his bones.


	15. Reassurance

Padding back from the shower room, wrapped in a towel and hair pulled up into a damp bun at the nape of her next, she crossed to the dresser where he kept clothes. Her back to him she pulled it open but before she had selected anything Diego was behind her. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the spot behind her ear, and she felt a hand brush along her shoulder blades – at which she flinched away.

“Don’t” she murmured.

He froze for a moment,  hand lifting of her skin immediately. She had never pulled away from him before , never protested, and his mind raced to work out what he had done. It only took a second before it clicked. He never touched her bare back,  or the scars that covered it , since the night he first saw them.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand moving to  cup the joint of her shoulder, unscarred skin,  the muscles tense under his palm. 

Eve pulled away, turning to face him and trying to adopt a smile that appeared unconcerned, but he could see through her like she was made of glass. Facing him she felt more comfortable, and moved closer, but Diego put both hands on her upper arms, holding her away from his body.

“You don’t want me to touch the scars” he stated, knowing that asking this as a question was both pointless, given that he’d figured it out, and unlikely to result in her responding. He’d knew her well enough to know when she felt insecure like this she wouldn’t be led into responses; Eve shut down.

She hesitated, biting her lip and looking away. It was the  truth and she had no argument to combat it. She had grown used to his hands on her hips, her neck, her waist, her thighs, her breasts – not just used to, she welcomed it, craved it.

When they fucked it was face to face, her back hidden from him by the sheets or by the fact she straddled his waist. To have him behind her when she was naked, to see those marks…it made her uncomfortable to imagine.

“Does it feel bad?” he checked, thinking of the old wound that crossed his head where hair never grew. The thin scar tissue against his skull felt odd sometimes when brushed; it was sensitive, and when Evie touched it the feeling was a tickle that sent a shiver rolling down his spine – but Eve shook her head. That was not it.

“No, they’re just…they’re ugly”. They weren’t especially more sensitive than any other part of her body she suspected, although there was an emotional reaction that made her hyper-aware of them. They were the worst part of her body, those bands of paler skin, raised up and cooler than the rest of her skin, wrinkled in strange ways. Eve tried to forget they were there and having them in a place she couldn’t even see made that easier most of the time. But to have Diego touch them and see that part of her…her shoulders quivered, a tremble rolling through her body involuntarily as though to shake off his hands.

“I don’t want you to see them” she whispered, her voice breaking. For a moment he considered, then lifted his hands to her jaw, gently guiding her face to look at him.

“Evie-”

“The first time you saw them you were horrified” Eve reminded him. That was what she had taken away from that night, Diego lost for words with disgust at the way she had been marked as a result of being born. He frowned slightly; ‘horrified’ wasn’t the way he’d have chosen to describe it.

“Not at the scars or you – that somebody had done that to you” he insisted. Diego had his own share of scars that came with their only stories; injuries didn’t bother him. When he saw Evie’s back now, he didn’t experience the same shock he had initially. If he thought about them, and the story behind their creation, he grew angry - the temptation to plan revenge had his blood as hot as her own - but otherwise they were part of her. He adored her, inside and out. 

“Angel. No part of you is ugly to me” he assured her. He could read the doubt in her eyes and leaned down to kiss her, his mouth capturing hers, teeth grazing her lip and sucking the flesh, the kiss quickly becoming impatient and eager. He slid his hands into her hair, fingers twisting into the mass and using his grip to pull  her head backward as he kissed her, open mouthed, as though he’d devour her. When he broke away her breath caught unsteadily in her throat, torn between her desire and insecurity.

“You don’t see yourself like I see you” Diego insisted, his voice a low throaty purr. She licked her lips, gaze on his mouth for a moment before looking up at his eyes. An idea struck him, and he smirked.

“Trust me” he murmured; his voice seductive as he invited her to give him a chance to prove his point. Evie hesitated, teeth digging into her lower lip, but Diego’s words were tempting her; she wanted not just his body but to believe him and she nodded, very slightly. His hands unwound from her hair and moved down to the towel, yanking it smoothly from her body and throwing it aside. His hands moved to her hips gripping her for a moment, before spinning her around. 

He pressed up against Eve, pinning her between his body and the furniture, bending her forward as he trailed one hand down her back, fingers skating over the scars, over the dip at the end of her spine and the curve of her ass before sliding down between her legs. His index fingers brushed briefly at her entrance, where she was just beginning to grow wet - his kisses, that voice, his arrogance, it all had a predictable result on her body - using her own slick juice to move forward and find the spot where she was most sensitive.

Diego had learned well what she liked, building on a wealth of experience he already had, and his goal today had nothing to do with teasing her. With hardly any pressure behind the touch he began tracing the pattern that she liked best, so close he could feel the breath that shuddered through her rapidly.

As soon as he got the beginning of a reaction from her, he slid his other hand to her back, palm flat against her spine. Thumb brushing along one scar he lowered his head, kissing the edge, where the blemishes of trauma met her own warm skin. 

Evie tensed slightly, the attention to the scars distracting her, but Diego was determined, and he shifted his hand further forward and slid his thumb inside her, drawing a whimper out of her mouth. His middle finger grazed over her clitoris, the other two stroking along the sensitive skin on her lower lips. The blonde moaned, her hands splayed flat on the surface she was pressed up against, fingers digging into wood as he pressed an open mouth kiss against the bumps of her spine and pushed his thumb deeper inside her. Diego wanted to keep Evie’s focus between her legs, but each time his fingers shifted within her to elicit another whimper, his other hand and his mouth explored the scars. Tracing the ridge of one with his tongue, he shifted his hand, replacing his thumb with two fingers and felt her body clench around him.

He was hard, she could feel his erection against the back of her thigh. That was more convincing that the scars were not an issue than his kisses. His idea had more parts to it though, and even as his fingers slid in and out of her body, feeling as much as hearing the whimper she offered each time they dipped back inside, his other hand moved from her skin and reached past her.

Neither one of them had a great deal of use for mirrors. Diego knew he was attractive, but he wasn’t the sort to preen, and Eve shied away from her own reflection. Today though he wanted her to see herself, not as she normally would when looking in the mirror, but as he got to see her. 

Because of how little it mattered the mirror - unanchored, just a square with slightly chipped edges - usually lay face down unless needed. Now - his fingers fumbling as he sought purchase, less graceful because it was his right hand, still slipping digits inside her to elicit whimpering gasps, where his focus was - he flipped it over, leaning forward and pressing his body flush against hers as he reached out to prop it against the wall. 

“Look” he murmured, words said directly into her ear, and Evie forced her eyes open. She had agreed to trust him, but despite this as soon the same moment she met her own eyes in the reflection she looked away, instinct and shame and her cheeks burning for another reason than his attention. 

Diego twisted his hand, flexing his fingers inside her to hear the noise that escaped her. The other hand caught her neck, holding her in place so he could press a clumsy kiss to the side of her face.

“Evie - you’re beautiful” he insisted. She wasn’t sure she was capable of speech at this point, her lips were open but the noises escaping with were inarticulate even if Diego perfectly understood the meaning. “I want to fuck you like this”, pressing his erection against her to make his point clearer. 

“You should see how you look when I’m inside you”. Picturing it had him even harder, rocking his hips against her as his fingers sped up. Every time he brought her to bed he got to see the way her eyelids flickered shut and her mouth rounded, and every time he found the sight of her like that every bit as much of a turn on as the feel of her, hot and slick, around his cock. 

“For me”. His teeth grazed her earlobe, sliding one finger out of her and stretching forward to brush the sweet spot that made her cry out softly. Truthfully, he knew this wasn’t playing fair. Evie was hardly one to argue anyway, but like this she couldn’t even attempt a disagreement. She nodded, fingers curling as he rewarded her by increasing the pressure for a moment - until he took his hand away, pressing another kiss against her neck as he broke away.

Evie struggled to catch her breath, using the mirror to watch him behind her as he stripped himself of his trousers. He moved rapidly, using just one hand to undo the button and pull them open before shedding them. The way Diego moved, and the sight of his smooth chest, had her shifting her weight from one foot to the other, arousal flooding her stomach and warming her fingers. Her nails were dug into the scarred furniture, the thin skin on the back of her hands softly glowing.

“You ready for me angel?” She nodded but he just smirked. Pressed up against her back, he leaned forward so he could meet her gaze in the mirror, he repeated his question in a tone full of cocky confidence and mischief. 

“Yes - please Diego” she murmured, her gaze on his reflection instead of her own. He slid one hand around her body, and she leaned into his touch, but Diego was merely teasing. Instead of homing in on the spot she wanted touched, he stroked his fingers through the hair, his erection pressed against the curve of her ass. 

“Mean”.

He chuckled, unconcerned. If she could have pouted, she would have, but instead she rocked her hips, shifting against him to tease Diego the way he was to her and she felt his groan rumble through both their bodies. 

“Look at yourself and I’ll give you what you wanted” he promised and Evie, bracing herself with her forearms flat, forced her gaze to her own face in the mirror rather than him. Her eyes looked dark, pupils so wide half the blue was hidden, and her cheeks were flushed. Her lips looked flushed and wet, swollen from her teeth on the flesh - and then he slid into her, one smooth movement sinking him deep inside her and she moaned. 

Keeping her eyes open was a struggle as he began to move, slowly thrusting into her, pulling almost all the way back out before sinking in each time. Each time he moved slowly enough she could feel a hundred sensations, the ridges of his body and hers sliding over one another, and her mouth quivered. 

The mirror offered him the view as well, and he watched as he finally dipped his hand lower to stroke her between her legs and she mewled his name, part of her wanting to thrust back against his cock, the other wanting to rock forward into his fingers stroking soft circles. 

He placed his other hand on her back, fingers tracing the scars as he slid it higher to grasp her shoulder and hold her still as he began to speed up. The power in his thrust had her body scraping slightly on the wood, her nipples rubbing along the wood and her toes curled at the added sensation

This new (for her, at any rate) angle has the feeling in her growing rapidly, each rock of his hips had him burying deep inside her and even if she had wanted to hold off, she couldn’t. He knew she was close, and the way the movement of his finger had grown irregular betrayed that he was too. Still he focused on her, needing her to crest that wave before he let himself go, her pleasure not only his focus but the food his ego always wanted. 

He didn’t have long to wait. She couldn’t watch herself, not because she was uncomfortable but because keeping her eyes open and her head up felt impossible. Bent forward at the neck, her fingers bright and burn marks appearing on the furniture, it exploded through her body with a force that had her crying out his name, her voice high pitched and strangled.

Diego withdrew his fingers, knowing how sensitive she’d be, but he moved it to grip her hips as he sped up. The aftershocks had her twitching and that was enough to have him reach his own climax with a drawn-out groan as he buried himself deep in her.

For a moment they were both still, their hearts thudding and their breath shaky, before he slowly pulled out of her. Evie straightened up and on trembling legs turned around to press her face against his neck, hands sliding around his waist. He could feel the heat from her fingers, but it was like a scalding shower rather than a burn and he didn’t flinch away; he enfolded his arms around her, kissing her temple.

“You’re beautiful when you cum” he murmured, and though her face was half hidden enough could be seen that he was aware of her flush. Evie wasn’t just embarrassed by the compliment but the sexual aspect of it - it was one thing to fuck him, another to talk about it having had a lifetime of shame around the subject.

“And I’ll fuck you again and again till you’re convinced” he added, teasing her slightly and she turned even redder.

“Diego” she mumbled, moving as though to pull away but he backed her up against the furniture to keep her in place as his hands, damp with sweat and her own arousal, moved to cup her face so he could lean in and kiss her.

“Gotta say  babygirl \- it’s cute how awkward you get at the dirty talk” he murmured directly into her mouth. “It’s feels like corrupting you”. And he was fine - more than fine - with that. 


	16. Interrogation or Interest

It felt odd to hand over bills to Al at the door; every time Eudora had visited the gym on these fight nights before she’d been Diego’s guest. Often, she’d been in the gym before it even began, in the room he called home. 

Fighting was his stress relief. He used to be hers. She had become a Detective to resolve conflict, not to seek it out. They’d split because they weren’t compatible in a relationship – but they’d never had that problem in the bedroom. After the break-up as a couple, with her too focused on her career to consider dating, they’d fallen into an easy arrangement. One that met both their needs... until it didn’t. Until Patch realised Diego’s feelings simmered still and the nights they spent in each other’s arms, tongues and teeth and sweat and moans, were preventing him from reaching closure. That was when she had ended things and invested in other means of finding that release. 

But for years they’d fought and refused to acknowledge what now seemed inevitable, years when Patch mistook the differences between them for sparks. And in those days, there had been a familiar routine; watching him get ready in a post-coital haze before heading out to meet his friends and watch the glorification of violence. 

To have come in from the cold and pulled cash out to hand over for the privilege of watching two men punch one another (a sight she had seen more times than she cared for, and normally intervened to stop) was an odd situation for her. But of course, she hadn’t really come to watch. 

Hands sliding into her jacket pockets she scanned the room, searching for a familiar face - and finding it. She wove through the crowd to Diego, studying him curiously with an eye experienced both in assessing people and understanding him specifically. 

He looked happy. These nights Diego seemed the most himself, Patch had always thought that. The bitter edge and old anger that tainted his soul when he was on the streets was gone. Surrounded by friends in a setting where he excelled those hard edges fell, and you could see who he might have been in a different life - somebody with a ready smile and quick tongue, who laughed easily and made others laugh too, a wide, almost sloppy grin crossing his face frequently. Without realising it she was smiling, her own expression nostalgic. 

Whilst Diego was tall, six foot in his bare feet, she’d guess his new girlfriend was maybe five foot four and she had to get closer to spot her tucked under his muscled arm. Patch remembered how almost… clingy Diego could be, eager for touch and bodily contact in a way that she had found frustrating at times, but Eve looked content. She was leaned against him, one hand lifted, fingers entwined with his that dangled from her shoulder. Her hair was pulled up today in a ponytail, away from her face, and the fear that had kept her expression taut last time they met was gone. She still looked nervous, her own smile close lipped and her body tucked close into him as though seeking shelter, but it seemed more like somebody not used to crowds than somebody outright scared. 

It was the others that spotted her first, his friends who’d grown used to her presence in the past. They greeted her by calling out her name, a clamour of attention enveloping her and drawing her into their circle of conversation. Even Diego flashed a grin, only Eve’s expression was neutral at the sight of the detective though she offered a polite, mumbled greeting. 

“What brings you down to this part of town - slumming it, Eudora? Or just missing me?” Diego asked, throwing her a wink - but Patch watched Eve more closely than her ex, the way she tilted her head up to study Diego’s face as though to determine how she should react, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. 

“No chance Hargreeves. I just came to see how you’re treating Eve - thought I’d see if she needed rescuing from your brand of trouble”. It was phrased as a joke, and drew laughter from the rest of the group, but she had some serious intent behind the words. 

She didn’t miss that as the excitement of her arrival settled and the group fell into several conversations, his friends taking the opportunity to catch up on her life over the past couple of years since the end of her relationship with Diego, Eve remained silent. Because of Patch’s presence? She thought not, nobody seemed surprised at the fact she listened rather than interjected. 

When Al began to announce the first fight Diego stepped back, the others wishing him luck, as he took Evie’s hand in his and headed for the changing rooms to get completely ready. 

“She doesn’t watch the fight with you guys?” Patch said, nodding to Eve’s retreating back and Zoe shook her head. 

“Evie doesn’t like the fighting. First time she came here she ran off. She waits out back and when Diego returns, she’ll be with him”. The comment contained clear judgement, the redhead rolling her eyes, but for Patch it fitted with what she had guessed about the blonde. 

She bided her time waiting - and during the second round of Diego’s match Patch excused herself, muttering something about the bathroom, but once she was away from the group, she headed down the stairs out the back of the gym to the boiler room. Nothing out here had changed, except to get shabbier. Out of manners she rapped her knuckles against the door, but Patch didn’t wait for a response before easing the handle down and opening it up. 

At the noise Eve had tensed - it couldn’t be either Diego or Al on a night this busy - but she didn’t have time to wonder or worry before Detective Patch appeared. Nothing about her relaxed at the sight, the visitor unexpected even if recognised. 

“Hey Eve” she said, not crossing the room to where the blonde sat cross legged in a chair. Patch stayed near the door even as she closed it behind her, leaning on the railing, her elbows on the crossbar and her hands clasped loosely in the air. “Zoe mentioned you don’t like the fighting; figured I’d come keep you company”. It was intended to sound friendly, but it clearly was less than effective given that Eve’s nerves were no less apparent after the comment. 

Evie watched the other woman nervously, offering a hesitant smile before realising that it was her turn to speak. Her mind churned rapidly, attempting to find a suitable response. 

“Okay” she managed after a moment, inwardly cursing herself. 

Patch tipped her head slightly, considering, and even though she had thought the comment Zoe offered which was so clearly judgemental and unimpressed with Eve was harsh…she now wondered what Diego saw in the girl. He’d never shown a preference for, or any interest, in quiet girls before. 

“So, you’re not a fan of boxing then?” For a moment Evie looked at the other woman, pulling her sleeves slightly to tug the tight sleeves down and cover her palms and fingers, lest they glow and betray her, while she considered a response before shaking her head. 

Revealing that she’d seen more than her fair share of violence in her life – and been the subject of most of it – was more than she cared to admit. Patch was Diego’s friend, she accepted that. But she was a cop as well. The same people that hurried her along as though she were an inconvenience and an eyesore, instead of a young woman just trying to get some rest and who might be in need help. Police turned a blind eye to the abuses the Elder inflicted on the church; when she left, she and Sarah had tried to raise it at the local station and the sheriff just brushed them off. Trusting somebody who was part of that institution felt unsafe, and Eve didn’t dare share her history. 

“How’d you meet Diego?” Eudora asked for a moment, hoping an outright question would be easier for the blonde to respond to than a statement or leading remarks. 

“He saved me” she offered after a pause, figuring from the first time she met Patch that the police officer knew exactly what Diego spent his nights doing. “Some guys were harassing me. He stopped them”. 

“That didn’t seem strange to you? Didn’t ring alarm bells?” 

Eve shrugged again. 

“I’ve read Vanya’s book. And I can put two and two together. I figured out who he was” she admitted. Patch nodded, considering that. So – quiet, young, scared of people and fond of men with a superhero complex. It still raised many questions. She nodded toward the chair facing Evie, wondering if the physical distance between them was adding to the difficulties and the blonde shrugged and then nodded. She would have preferred Patch left in truth – but she wasn’t going to outright insult Diego’s friends. Or, in truth, make an honest statement which could lead to confrontation. Patch moved, coming to sit in the other seat, one leg draped over the other. 

“How long ago was this? How long have you been together?” 

Eve calculated, clearly counting on her fingers from the way they folded and unfolded themselves. Her education had been limited, and even these days math was not her strongest suit. 

“We met…about five and a half months ago? And we’ve been together…just over three months…I think”. Dates were not of huge importance in her world, she didn’t have to sit at a desk and ensure she accurately recorded things, didn’t think about payday or when bills were due. But she was reasonably sure in her estimates. 

“Still early days then” Eudora said with a smile. 

“How long have you known him?” Eve asked. If she was being questioned, she supposed it was fair game to turn it out, and even though Diego had told her she was interested to know Patch’s side. Relaxing against the chair back the brunette exhaled slowly as she cast her mind back. 

“Eight years now? Yeah, it must be eight” she said, remembering police academy. Eve caught the look on the other’s face that seemed nostalgic, reminiscing, and decided to pursue the matter – even if only so that she wouldn’t have to come up with answers to questions herself. 

“What was he like back then?” 

There was a chuckle before words as Patch remembered. 

“Even spikier than he is now” she admitted. “Fresh out of his family home – he was all sharp edges and anger, and everyone rubbed him up the wrong way. He was always picking fights” Patch said, turning her gaze back to Eve and noting how the blonde’s expression had lost some of the guarded look. More stories about Diego then. She could manage that. 

“I mean – if you think he can be bad with people and bitter now – seriously, this is the new improved Diego” Patch said, deliberately trying to turn it into a joke and feeling mollified at the way Eve smiled. So, there was a human in there. 

“If you’ve read the book…I mean, all those rules? It’s no way to raise kids. And Diego’s response to rules is to decide they don’t apply to him. At the police academy, there are a lot of rules and he spent a lot – I mean, a lot – of time running laps and doing press ups as punishment for testing all those rules”. 

“Did you all know who he was? That he’d been one of the Hargreeves children?” Eve asked, warming up despite herself. 

“Oh yeah. It came up early on. Back then…now, the Umbrella Academy…it’s been gone for years. But it was still recent news – and so local – that yeah, we knew. There were a group of guys who seemed to think they had to teach him he wasn’t a hero anymore. Called him the Kraken all the time and winding him up. They ended up getting beaten up by him. Four on one and he still won” Patch told him, watching Eve’s face, the way her eyes had lit up at these stories Diego hadn’t shared. The way she was actually very pretty when she lost that wary, watchful gaze. 

“For that, he had to run laps for two hours. That’s how I met him”. 

“Were you in trouble too?” 

“Me?” She laughed briefly. “I was just training. Unlike Diego, I believe in rules”. Taking advantage of Eve relaxing slightly she tried to turn the conversation back to them. “So how many guys did he take on to save you?” 

“Three. I didn’t make him run any laps though” she said, deadpan. That made Patch laugh properly. 

She had hoped Diego’s fight would go the full twelve rounds and give her a chance to learn more about Eve. Unfortunately for her Diego’s opponent tonight was not aware of his part in her plan. 

He was light enough on his feet they hadn’t heard him on the stairs, the first realisation that the match was over was him bursting through the door, shirtless and dripping with sweat, his lip split, and raised his fists over his head in victory. Both women smiled at the sight of them; it was hard not to be touched by how genuinely pleased he looked with his triumph. 

Spotting Eudora stopped him in his tracks, and he dropped his arms, confused. He had intended to come and tell Eve about his victory, but the sight of Patch threw all that off. 

“What’re you doing down here?” 

“Nice to see you too” she responded dryly. Diego grabbed a towel, rubbing the fabric along his arms as he walked down the steps, coming to stand beside Eve’s chair. She stood up, one hand on his arm as she guided him to sit down and he threw her a brief grateful smile as she perched on the furniture’s arm and he took her vacated seat. 

“Not an answer to my question” he pointed out, draping the towel around his neck, one hand moving to settle on the curve of Eve’s hip. His gaze briefly hovered on her ass, so close to him, but he shook that thought away. Later. When they were alone and could properly celebrate his victory. 

“I came to check on Eve. I hear she’s not fond of boxing and thought I’d keep her company”. 

He narrowed his eyes slightly, suspicious of her intentions still and her intense interest in his new girlfriend, his fingers hooking onto Eve a little tighter as though to protect her. Diego knew Patch wouldn’t be out to hurt anyone intentionally, but it was still a strange situation – a first for them both though, they hadn’t had to deal with either one having a new partner since their relationship ended. She always said she was too busy for dating, and he’d been too hung up. 

“You’re not a big fan either” he pointed out and Eudora shrugged, standing up with a suppressed smile. Her goal had been to speak to Eve alone, with Diego here that was no longer possible. Alternatively, she’d have settled for getting the chance with talk with him properly but discussing Eve in front of her face wasn’t going to look good, not when he was clearly so protective. Patch had manners, even if he didn’t. 

“All the more reason for me to come down here and chat with her” Patch said, her voice tired. There was something here that she hadn’t figured out yet, she was sure of that. It concerned her on Diego’s behalf, but he was so unused to anyone looking out for him he would get prickly if she tried to explain that. If she’d had more time…she shook her head very slightly to get the thought out. 

“I’ll go catch up with the others. See you in a minute” she said, offering Eve a smile before leaving the basement. No sooner had she gone, and Diego’s was turning Eve to face him, pulling her legs onto his lap. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine” she insisted. 

“What did she want?” he asked, frowning very slightly. 

“Like she said – she came to keep me company. Asked how long we’d been together, how we met, just stuff like that” Eve assured him. “So – you won?” 

“Knock out in the third round” he bragged. “What’s my prize?” 

Leaning down she kissed him. 

“That’s all you get for now. You’ve got friends waiting”.


End file.
